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THE POLLY PAGE 
MOTOR CLUB 


s 


THE 

POLLY PAGE 
MOTOR CLUB 


BY 

IZOLA L. FORRESTER 

AUTHOR OF “the POLLY PAGE YACHT CLUB,** 
“the POLLY PAGE RANCH CLUB,** ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


Tzr 


Copyright, 1915, by 
George W. Jacobs ^ Compcmy 
Published November, 1913 


’All rights reserved 
Printed in U. S. A. 


CONTENTS 




CHAPTER 

I 

Winning over Welcome . 






PAGE 

7 

II 

A Special Session . 






20 

III 

At White Chimneys . 






35 

IV 

Mistletoe and Motoring 





, 

42 

V 

The Pirate Treasure 



i*. 



51 

VI 

Polly Locates Her Car . 





, 

65 

VII 

Gathering the Clan . 





, 

79 

VIII 

The Colonial Dinner . 





. 

97 

IX 

Aunt Evelyn’s Coming . 





. 

115 

X 

The Start of the “Scooters” 




. 

131 

XI 

Highway Scouting 





. 

151 

XII 

The Record of Sunny Hours 




. 

172 

XIII 

Camping Out in the Cabin 





. 

192 

XIV 

The Lady of Fair View . 





. 

215 

XV 

Skeletons in Red Coats . 





. 

238 

XVI 

The Road to Richmond . 





. 

255 

XVII 

Cary of Sunnyside 





. 

277 

XVIII 

On Mountain Trails . 





. 

300 

XIX 

The Masquerade Surprise 





. 

322 

XX 

A Vote of Thanks . . 





. 

341 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


Only the call of the road could reach them 


now Frontispiece 

rACINQ 

PAGE 

At the turn of the staircase she paused . . . . 66 ^ 

In stepped a stately girlish figure 106 

“If dey go pank, dey’s still green, and if dey go punk, 

dey’s ripe 164 ^ 

The girls made stacks of sandwiches 206 






THE POLLY PAGE 
MOTOR CLUB 


CHAPTER I 

WINNING OVER WELCOME 

Polly hurried upstairs, breathless and ex- 
cited, the Admiral’s telegram in her hand. 

“We’re to stay a whole week at White Chim- 
neys, Aunty Welcome,” she exclaimed, “and 
Marbury’s to meet us at the station with his 
car.” 

Welcome never even turned her head at the 
news. Down on her knees before the wide chest 
of drawers she was, packing, every curve of her 
ample figure a protest. Even the slow sideways 
wagging of her head was portentous. 

“Pretty doin’s,” she soliloquized. “Puffin’ 
’round in strange places Chris’mus, and de Ad- 
miral flat on his back.” 


8 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Polly was bending over a time table at her 
little desk between the south windows. 

“We can leave here the morning of the 
24th, and be home for New Year’s. It’s so 
dear and thoughtful of Mrs. Yates to in- 
clude me with Hallie, don’t you think so. 
Aunty?” 

Dead silence. 

Polly tiptoed over, and stroked the old tur- 
baned head coaxingly. 

“Go ’long, chile, go ’long,” muttered Wel- 
come haughtily. “Don’t you try ter git ’round 
me. Ah ain’t givin’ mah consent nohow. 
Jauntin’ at Chris’mus is agin ma conscience 
and predelictions.” 

“But, dearie, with Grandfather away, think 
how lonely it would be here. And didn’t he 
say it was right for us to go?” 

“He’d say it was all right if you wanted to 
put dis whole house on a sea turtle’s back and 
tmndle it to Florida. Go ’way, now. Ah say. 
Ah don’t feel resigned. Mis’ Polly. Pokin’ way 
down to tidewater country for Chris’mus. Ain’t 
no more like Chris’mus ’an mah ole granny’s 
funeral.” 

Polly sat down on the floor beside her, and 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 9 

hugged her knees. It was a serious crisis when 
Welcome rebelled. 

“Now, listen, Aunty. All of the girls from 
Calvert Hall are going home for the holidays, 
excepting Hallie Yates and Peggie Murray, 
and Peggie wants to stay with Jean, of course. 
They can’t go ’way out west to Wyoming just 
for two weeks, you know. So if I didn’t go 
with Hallie, I’d be all alone here.” 

“Tryin’ to tell me you’d be lonely? Don’t hug 
me so tight, chile, jes’ like a catamount. You 
ain’t lonely any time. If you was to be wrecked 
in distress on Greenland’s icy mountain, you’d 
get up a grasshopper parade next day.” Wel- 
come’s shoulders shook with silent mirth, and 
Polly loosened her clasp. 

“Of course I wouldn’t be lonely with you,” 
she said, happily, “but this is ever so much nicer. 
Hallie gave me a time table. She’s going down 
Saturday. The Senator and Mrs. Yates mo- 
tored down from Washington last week, and 
Marbury joined them from Annapolis with two 
of his classmates.” 

“An’ you takin’ int’rest in sech doin’s wif de 
Admiral endurin’ plumbago.” 

“Lumbago, dearie,” suggested Polly, absently. 


10 POLLYi PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

back at the time table. ‘‘Oh, it’s ’way down 
the bay, almost to Norfolk. Here’s Wenoka, 
and White Chimneys is seven miles up in the 
country from there.” 

“Don’t you try ter sidetrack me. Mis’ Polly.” 
Welcome gave the hamper beside her a vigor- 
ous whack. “Ah won’t have mah train ob 
thought discoupled. De Admiral he goes and 
ketches plumbago, and he runs like a scared 
rabbit for de Springs. Jes’ as if Ah couldn’t 
’a’ cured him, an’ no dippin’ in boiling, bub- 
bling, spouting brimstone water. He’s gittin’ 
fearful’ childish.” 

She was years older than the Admiral, but 
that made no difference. Often she would tell 
him. “ ’T ain’t years makes folks old. It’s lack 
ob common senses. You ain’t nuffin’ but a 
sprightly boy, Marse Admiral Bob.” 

Polly sang softly under her breath one of her 
favorite carols. She was standing on a stool 
at the tall wardrobe now, hunting out her 
prettiest dresses. Welcome’s droning voice 
hardly reached her. All the glad expectancy 
of youth and the wonderment of the trip were 
so fresh in her mind, she could not think of 
other things. She felt for all the world like 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 11 


pinching herself, and saying with the little old 
woman who fell asleep by the king’s highway, 

“Lauk-a-mercy ! This is none of I !'* 

It was nearly two weeks now since the Ad- 
miral had felt his first twinge of pain, and, with 
old Balaam for a body guard, had departed for 
the Springs to try the treatment there. 

Polly had received several letters from him, 
and he had decided to journey leisurely south 
as far as Camden over the holidays. She had 
spent considerable thought over those letters. 
Should she join him or stay alone at Glenwood 
with just Welcome and the other help? As 
the Admiral himself put it, “There won’t be any 
snapdragon fun around this invalid camp, so 
you had best go down to White Chimneys, 
matey.” 

For years Polly had heard of White Chim- 
neys, the old Virginia plantation of Senator 
Yates. Her own mother had been a guest there 
in her girlhood. There was one little drawer in 
her desk, the same desk Polly used now, and in- 
side it lay a pair of white silk mitts with trailing 
rosebuds embroidered on them, and a white and 
gold dance card, Mary Percy’s first dance card. 


12 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Polly liked to look it over, and see how every 
single waltz was marked “Hearts.’’ 

“Who was ‘Hearts,’ Grandfather?” she had 
asked once, and the old Admiral had chuckled 
over the card with its tiny white and gold pencil 
dangling from a silken cord. 

“That’s my boy Phil, Polly, your father. He 
knew the right way to win her.” 

And now she herself was going down to this 
dear old haunt of memories, just as Polly 
Percy had, once upon a time, for her first real 
dance. Hallie had told her all about what it 
would be like. She was the Senator’s niece, in 
her freshman year up at the Hall. The Vaca- 
tion Club had taken possession of her from the 
first week in September. It needed two new 
members, and Hallie was made one of them with 
the customary rites known only to Crullers and 
Polly. 

“What you puttin’ in dat lacey dress for, 
chile?” 

Polly started out of her day-dreaming of 
White Chimneys and Christmas bells. Wel- 
come was pointing at the dainty dress in her 
arms. It was new, and Polly loved it, for she 
had designed it all by herself. Cream white it 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 13 


was, silky and clinging as a poppy petal, ^ith 
tiny pink satin rosebuds half hidden under the 
lace at throat and elbows. She had been saving 
it for her Christmas party at home, but now it 
could be her “bestest frock,” as Welcome said, 
down at the Senator’s. 

“Is you goin’ to answer me, now or never?” 
repeated Aunty severely. “What you puttin’ in 
dat dress for? Jes’ ter hop-skip down in de 
country?” 

“Going to do you credit, precious,” laughed 
Polly, packing the dress away in its soft folds of 
tissue paper, and laying it herself in the big 
traveling hamper. When the Admiral was 
home, trunks were used, but when Welcome 
managed any going forth, the good old willow 
hampers did service. Polly sat down on a stool 
now, and leaned her chin in her hands. Even 
while Welcome scolded over the suddenness of 
it all, she knew in her heart she was fairly bub- 
bling over with pride that her “honey girl” 
should be an invited guest at White Chimneys. 

“Aren’t you glad for me. Aunty Welcome?” 
she asked with just the right touch of pathos to 
bring the old nurse around. “Don’t you want 
me to look nice? Mandy and Peter will get 


14 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


along without us. I asked Mandy if she didn’t 
want to ask Peter Jr. and Mrs. Peter Jr., and all 
the little Petes up for Christmas dinner, and 
she’s ever so pleased. They won’t even miss us, 
and think how you’ll impress all the help down 
at the Senator’s. I heard Mrs. Yates say once 
when we were at Lost Island that she didn’t 
have a single maid who could remember before 
the war.” 

‘‘Pouf!” chuckled Aunty, her shoulders shak- 
ing with pleasure. “Ah can go clar back ter 
Pocahontas if Ah jes’ kinder concentrated mah 
faculties. Put in de silk frock, chile, and mind 
you get de long gloves and stockings and slip- 
pers for it. Ah s’pose we’ve got ter go down and 
impress ’em, but it’s de fust time since you was 
born dat you’ve been away from your own roof 
tree Chris’mus. Mandy’s cooked turkey for you 
since you was able to waggle a wishbone in your 
fingers. Ah’ll go, but Ah suttinly don’t see how 
you’s goin’ ter take any comfort, honey.” 

Polly’s face was thoughtful. She watched 
the bare tendrils of the creeper tap at the window 
pane like pleading, timid fingers. Outside the 
world was windswept and almost listening for 
the first snow. Polly had always half believed 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 15 


the trees and shrubs and little dried grasses were 
kept posted by the messenger winds about the 
coming storms. Certainly the creeper tapped 
its message of warning to the window pane, and 
the window pane gave little creaks so that the 
room it protected might know the news. 

Now, while Welcome crooned softly to herself 
over the packing, Polly thought over all the long 
procession of Y uletides at Glenwood. Such 
happy times, each year seemed better than the 
last. The first three she had been too tiny to 
recall any impression of, but Welcome had told 
her of them over and over so often that she felt 
as if she knew every detail. 

The first had been fifteen years ago. There 
had been much discussion over the advisability of 
having a tree upstairs, as the Admiral’s quarters 
were always called ‘‘below.” Every year 
Mandy held her own celebration down in the 
kitchen kingdom, and always at a certain signal, 
a procession of giggling happy, expectant fig- 
ures had come up the long center hall, Mandy 
and Peter leading, to where the Admiral himself 
waited them under the high arched doors of the 
library. There was Polly’s grandmother beside 
him. Welcome said, the beautiful “Mis’ Caro- 


16 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


line,” to hand forth “Chris’mas gif’ ” to the eager 
hands. 

Behind them were the young ladies of Glen- 
wood, in white mulle dresses over huge hoops, 
and roses in their hair. Millicent, Faith, Eve- 
lyn, and Hallie, and shoulders high above them, 
Polly’s own dear father, “Marse Phil.” But 
never had there been a tree upstairs. The cele- 
bration then was very stately and decorous. 

But one by one the girls had married and 
gone from the home nest, “Mis’ Caroline,” 
slipped over the shadowy borderland in her sleep 
one summer night, and only the Admiral was 
left with Phil and his bride, Polly’s mother. 

It was very seldom the old Admiral could be 
coaxed into telling her of the days that followed, 
but Welcome would chat by the hour of her 
“Young Missie,” Polly on the footstool at her 
feet begging for more, asking if she looked one 
little bit like the wonderful Mary Percy of Albe- 
marle County. 

Welcome would survey her placidly, her 
mouth well puckered in perplexity. 

“Maybe kinder ’round de eyes, only hers 
drooped a little at de corners like she’s always 
laughing, and dey was jes’ as brown as one ob 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 17 


dese hyar moths in early spring dat beat on de 
window to get in. But you got de same kind ob 
ha’r she had, honey, all brown and curly and 
fly-away, and you got de dimple in your side 
cheek, but mah land, she had distinction ! Hold 
her head way up high like a lily to de sun, she 
would. ’Cou’se after Marse Phil died, she 
drooped, jes’ like de frost ketch her.’’ 

“I know,” Polly would interrupt hastily. 
“Don’t tell that part, dearie.” 

Too well could she remember those last years 
after her father’s death. A hush had seemed to 
fall over the old place. The Admiral had trav- 
eled a good deal, and stayed up at Washing- 
ton. Her mother had moved like a shadow 
around the gardens or through the great lonely 
rooms. 

Polly had always been with Aunty Welcome 
then. Only now and then would she see her 
mother, sometimes at night to feel a kiss as she 
was falling asleep, sometimes when she was go- 
ing for a drive behind pompous old Balaam, 
sometimes in the garden when she found her 
mother sitting by her favorite rose tree, looking 
westward to where the hills seemed to rest 
against the sky. 


18 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Yet, even after the shadow fell, Glenwood 
had always had its Christmas tree. Welcome 
had attended to that feature of the celebration. 
And the size of the tree had increased every year. 
The past two had been giant hemlocks, with 
Polly and the Admiral receiving at the same old 
arched doorway, and Welcome marshaling 
Mandy and the rest in the back hall to look at 
her “honey lam’ ” doing the honors. It did 
seem strange, she thought, that this year was to 
find the old house dark and silent. 

“But it’s time you was a ‘bloomin’,’ anyhow,” 
Welcome declared relentingly. “An’ I s’pose 
we have to show des tidewater Virginians what 
de Capital quality is like.” 

“But we’re not Capital folks. Auntie,” 
laughed Polly. “We’re almost tidewater Vir- 
ginians too down here at Queen’s Ferry.” 

“Dere’s tidewater an’ tidewater. We’re 
close enough to de Capital to get all showered 
wif de tone and general appearances, and settin’ 
upnesses, and manners ob Capitalian glory — ” 
“Oh, you precious old dear,” Polly’s arms 
were wrapped around her neck. From below 
came the sound of the door-bell, and Welcome 
gave a gasp of relief as she was released. “It’s 


WINNING OVER WELCOME 19 


Hallie. We’re going over with the Christmas 
presents to the girls, Auntie.” 

She ran downstairs, singing a carol, and Wel- 
come stood at the window until she saw the two 
girls pass together down the garden walk be- 
tween the high hedges. When she came back to 
her packing, tears glistened on her dark cheeks, 
but all she said was, 

“Dat chile’s suttinly bloomin’.” 


CHAPTER II 


A SPECIAL SESSION 

“Let me help carry those parcels/’ Hallie 
said, reaching after the stack on Polly’s left arm. 
“Whatever have you put in them? We girls 
have been tying up things and marking them all 
the afternoon.” 

“Sue’s gone home, hasn’t she?” 

“Yesterday. Ted went this morning with 
Crullers. It’s lonesome already without them. 
Oh, Polly, can you go? I’ve been wishing and 
wishing you could.” Hallie turned her back to 
the wind, and danced along facing Polly. 
“Marhury says he’ll take us all around in his 
machine to where Pocahontas lived, and up to 
Mount Tom where some big battle was. If you 
dig deep enough you come to bones, he says, but 
I don’t believe it. When I was little I used to 
though, and we’d dig and dig.” 

“What sort of car has he?” Polly missed the 
bones story, so busy she was thinking over Mar- 


A SPECIAL SESSION 


21 


bury and his machine. The Admiral had always 
denounced automobiles, and no gasoline car had 
ever threatened the permanency of old Balaam 
and his various carriages at the Glenwood 
stables. But in her heart Polly liked them. 
Perhaps it was the speed that attracted her. 
She had ridden with Isabel and her mother often 
from Queen’s Ferry up the shore road towards 
Arlington, and it had fairly thrilled her to listen 
to the soft purr of the engine, and feel the sweep 
of wind in her face. 

In some way it had brought back to her the 
racing days at Lost Island, the excitement over 
the little catboats, and the same keen smack of 
fresh air that made you half close your eyes, and 
lift your chin higher. Half the interest she felt 
in the trip down to White Chimneys was on 
account of Marbury’s car, and the chance for 
spins in it. 

‘T don’t know,” answered Hallie, happily. 
‘Tt’s a runabout, I think. Uncle has a big one 
that seats seven people, but it’s up at Washing- 
ton most of the time, because he says our roads 
are bad for touring.” 

“Why doesn’t somebody have them fixed?” 

Hallie laughed. Polly’s first notion when 


22 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


anything went wrong was to have it “fixed.” 
Even when Annie May, the cook up at the Hall, 
said her twins didn’t look alike, Polly had asked 
anxiously, “Can’t you fix them so they will, 
Annie May?” 

“You’ll have to talk to Uncle and Marbury, 
’cause I don’t know much about it. I suppose 
you’d want to get right out and make new roads, 
wouldn’t you, Polly?” 

“If they needed new ones. Don’t squeeze 
that round parcel, Hallie. It’s cake with frost- 
ing, and chopped nuts, figs, and dates for the 
filling.” 

“Won’t Crullers be sorry she went home? 
For us, Polly?” 

Polly’s eyes twinkled just the way the Ad- 
miral’s did. “Not for you, Hallie. It’s for the 
girls after we’ve gone.” 

t “Oh, Polly, are you going with me, surely? 
Did your grandfather say so?” 

Polly produced the telegram out of her coat 
pocket for answer, and nearly dropped her load 
of parcels opening it. They stood reading it to- 
gether, the precious “order to march” as Polly 
called it. But the sky was grey with the early 
winter twilight, and time was short. They hur- 


A SPECIAL SESSION 


23 


ried along faster than ever until the Hall came 
in sight with its imposing Doric columns, then 
slipped around the side garden paths to Annie 
May’s domain. 

“Now, for de mussy sakes,” ejaculated Annie 
May, rolling her eyes in glad surprise. She un- 
wrapped her parcel, and shook forth two broad 
white muslin aprons with shoulder ruffles and 
streaming ties. “Ain’t I goin’ ter feel jes’ like 
one oh dese hyar airships, wif dese angel wings 
a-flyin’ !” 

“There’s candy for Julian and Juliana,” said 
Polly. “One’s tied with blue and one with pink 
ribbon, so they won’t get mixed. Going to miss 
us awfully, Annie May?” 

“Don’t ask me. Mis’ Polly. You make me 
all sobby and rattled. Ain’t any more sperit 
left in me dan in dat dishrag.” Annie May was 
cheerful and smiling as possible, but she always 
pretended she was “pinin’ fearsome,” as she said, 
when any of the girls went away. The girls 
laughed, and ran up the back stairs to the long 
center hall that cut the house in two portions. 
All was silent, though, and they followed the 
circular stairs up two flights more to Miss Mur- 
ray’s room. Here Polly tapped on the door, her 


24 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


own individual tap, three imperative knocks and 
one longer one for luck. 

“Come in!” called Jean Murray’s clear tone. 
“I thought it was you, Polly. See how indus- 
trious we are over here.” 

“Jean’s directress of work,” Peggie said from 
the couch between the two windows where Isabel 
Lee was helping her dress dolls. Down on the 
floor was Crullers struggling over pink net stock- 
ings and contents, eleven of them. Ted Moore 
was inscribing the compliments of the season and 
Santa Claus’s tenderest regards in a pile of pic- 
ture books, and Sue was tying up mittens, mit- 
tens of all sizes and colors it seemed to Polly, in 
white tissue paper bound with holly ribbon, with 
a sprig of southern mistletoe tucked into each. 

“Miss Murray,” Crullers exclaimed, holding 
up one mitten with a thumb that fairly bulged. 
“Look at tjiat one. I made it, and I didn’t get 
the pattern just right.” 

“It looks like a bed slipper with a place for 
what Julian calls his thumb toe,” Jean answered. 
“Don’t care. Crullers. Maybe it will shrink.” 

“When are you going to ship the box?” asked 
Polly, dropping her own parcels in a heap on the 
table. 


A SPECIAL SESSION 


25 


“Tomorrow. And it’s such a dandy box,” 
Peggie spoke up. “Mother wrote us that it’s the 
first year a real Christmas celebration has been 
held up at the Forks since Jean and I cut our 
own tree and dressed it for the children. Jimmie 
is to be Santa Claus. Remember Jimmie, don’t 
you, Polly?” 

“Remember Jimmie!” Polly exclaimed. “I 
remember ev^erything that happened last summer 
on the ranch, Jimmie and everyone. What are 
you sending for him?” 

“A housewife,” Sue announced, triumphantly, 
holding it up for inspection. “Thimble, darning 
needles, thread, everything for the complete 
bachelor. It’s blue velvet lined with corn colored 
silk, Polly, and I made it.” 

“We’re sending him books besides to help him 
bear the shock of Sue’s housewife,” Jean added. 
“Take off your cloak, Polly, and help us finish 
packing.” 

“I mustn’t. It’s ’way past five now, and I 
promised Aunty Welcome I’d come right back. 
See this bundle of things. They are not to be 
opened until Christmas, positively. Crullers, no 
fair sniffing.” 


26 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Crullers giggled happily, and backed away 
from the table. “I can smell violet sachet.” 

“But you’ll be here with us for Christmas, 
won’t you, Polly?” asked Jean. 

Polly shook her head. 

“I’m going away Saturday for two weeks at 
White Chimneys, Senator Yates’s home. Now, 
please, please don’t be sorry for me because I’m 
so divided now I don’t know what to do. I want 
to go there and stay here too.” 

“Where is White Chimneys?” Sue puckered 
her brow musingly. “'Farther down the river, 
isn’t it?” 

“Nearly to the open sea. Aimty calls it the 
^tidewater’ country.” 

“That always sounded funny to me. If any- 
thing could be more ‘tidey’ than we are up here on 
the shoulder of old Chesapeake, I’d like to see 
it.” 

“Oh, I’d love to go all over Virginia,” put in 
Isabel, dreamily. “One fall long ago we came 
up by boat from Charleston. The boat was 
called the Yemassee, I remember, and it had a 
big gold figurehead with great wings that you 
could hide under. I used to stand under them 
right bang up in the prow, on the coils of rope. 


A SPECIAL SESSION 27 

and watch the porpoises leap around the cut- 
water.” 

Peggie had stopped sewing a pink sunbonnet 
for a brown haired doll, and was listening with 
all her heart. 

“Grandfather had one great uncle who was 
with the original expedition shipwrecked on the 
Bermudas under Sir George Somers,” Polly said. 
“He said his father could remember hearing 
about it when he was a boy, how they thought 
the islands were enchanted like in ‘The Tempest,’ 
and how they tried to get back to Virginia. I 
think they were an awfully plocky lot, don’t you. 
Miss Murray, poking off over unknown seas like 
that?” 

“Tell more, Polly,” Peggie spoke up shyly. 
“I love to hear you girls talk about such things as 
if they happened around here yesterday. Back 
home in Wyoming, why, fifty years is ancient 
history with us. After that it’s just Indians.” 

“Well, I guess from all accounts, it came 
pretty near being all Indians here too. If it 
hadn’t been for Pocahontas trotting corn regu- 
larly to the starving colony, Virginia would have 
given up the ghost. We girls ought to do some- 
thing for Pocahontas some time, have a Poca- 


28 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


hontas camping club, or anything that’s wild and 
woodlandish, don’t you know! Peggy could 
model her head in clay to put up on a totem 
pole.” 

“No totems in Virginia,” laughed Miss Mur- 
ray, “but I think we might have a clay model just 
the same.” Back in Wyoming Peggie had 
found a strata of clay, and had tried to model 
figures from it. Jean had always encouraged 
her. As Polly often remarked, Peggie was so 
far the only girl in the vacation club who had 
shown symptoms of genius, and she should have 
all the encouragement they could give her. So 
during this first year at Calvert Hall, the shy 
girl from the Crossbar Ranch had found plenty 
of happiness up in Jean’s room, with her box of 
modeling clay and the funny little wooden 
“spoons,” as the others dubbed her tools. 

“Take Sue with her straight brown hair and 
beetle brows for a model,” suggested Isabel. 

Sue promptly threw a cushion with swift, sure 
aim, but Jean interposed hastily, and said that 
Pocahontas was the loveliest maiden of all the 
tribes, and even Queen Elizabeth had to admire 
her when she was presented at court. 

“But Polly,” Ted suddenly exclaimed, “you 


A SPECIAL SESSION 


29 


won’t be here for the board meeting, and we can’t 
decide on anything at all without you, can we, 
girls?” 

Polly did not answer for a minute. She had 
forgotten all about the meeting. It was to be 
held the Wednesday of Christmas week, the girls 
had decided, the one important meeting of the 
year, when the members of the Vacation Club 
were to decide where their trip should be for the 
coming summer. And with the president of the 
Club away, there could be no decision, that was 
obvious. 

‘‘I forgot all about it,” said Polly, simply. 
“Why not have it now?” 

The suggestion brought a delighted peal of 
laughter from the girls. As Annie May said, 
“Miss Polly was de most expeditious and immedi- 
ate grabber ob opportunity’s coat tails she eber 
did see.” It was so characteristic of Polly to 
seize the fleeting moment whenever it was pos- 
sible, and she always declared it saved time. 

“If you have anything to do, do it just as soon 
as you can, or you have to keep on remembering 
not to forget it,” she would say. So now when 
the girls laughed at the idea of holding an im- 
mediate meeting, Polly said nothing, but pro- 


30 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


ceeded to clear the table, and rap for order. 

“Let’s waive formalities, and get down to real 
suggestions, and then see whether we can do the 
thing we want most. What do you think is best, 
Isabel?” 

“Why, I haven’t really thought of it seriously. 
We have had such good times each year, I’d be 
willing to go right back to either Lost Island or 
the ranch.” 

“That’s not progressive at all,” protested Sue 
swiftly. “We ought to go to a different place 
every year. I loved the horseback trip to the 
mountains last year. Can’t we keep moving 
somehow?” 

“Charter a nice, four-room airship, Polly. 
Something that soars apace with Sister Susan’s 
fancy,” murmured Ted. 

“No, I don’t mean an airship,” protested Sue, 
quite seriously. “I like something that you can 
manage, that will do as it’s told, don’t you know? 
But, really, girls, I’m in earnest. I don’t see 
why it would take much more money for us to 
keep on the march than it would to camp.” 

“Gypsy wagon; donkeys; yellow silk curtains; 
little fat black kettle on three poles; one dog; two 
tents.” Polly enumerated the essentials for 


A SPECIAL SESSION 31 

caravaning slowly. “What do you think, Miss 
Murray?” 

“You’d need a bodyguard, and it would be 
rather slow going, I’m afraid. What part of the 
country do you plan on seeing this coming sum- 
mer? Have you thought of that at all?” 

“We haven’t thought or talked of anything 
specially, not yet,” answered Polly, doubtfully. 
“Ruth did say one day that she would like a 
houseboat on old Chesapeake Bay, but that 
wouldn’t be like gypsying.” 

“I know what to do,” Sue exclaimed, happily, 
“rent a caboose from the railroad, and just jog 
along at the end of freight trains all over the 
map.” 

“We don’t want to be dependent on trains of 
any sort,” Polly protested. “We must do some- 
thing where we have our own schedules and can 
do just as we please.” 

“The way Aunt Margaret and Uncle Larry 
did when they motored to the White Mountains 
last year,” Hallie added. “They never planned 
ahead at all. When they came to a town or 
country inn, they put up there for the night, and 
took up the road, as Uncle called it, in the morn- 
ing.” 


32 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Polly’s chin was on her two palms, and her 
eyes regarded Hallie with a far-away intentness. 
Already she could see the long white road unroll 
ahead of the Vacation Club. 

“Did it cost them very much, Hallie?” 

“Why, no. Uncle drives his car himself al- 
ways. He likes to. You know he’s president 
of the highway commission, or something like 
that down home in our county, so it isn’t just fun 
to him. Marbury went out last summer with 
one of the pathfinders.” 

“Pathfinders?” repeated the girls. “What 
are they?” 

“Cars sent out to trace new roads, and find out 
what conditions are. He went ’way out through 
Kansas and Nebraska, then southwest.” 

“Miss Murray,” Polly asked. “Why couldn’t 
we girls do that?” 

Jean laid aside her last Christmas package for 
the ranch box, and shook her head laughingly, as 
she came over to the council table, and laid her 
arm around the president’s shoulders. 

“Don’t you know that it costs awfully to keep 
up a machine, Polly? Several hundred a month, 
I am sure, when you are touring.” 

“But if we only toured for a month that 


A SPECIAL SESSION 


33 


wouldn’t be so much. We wouldn’t have any 
railroad fare at all.” 

“You have to pay toll rates and ferry rates, 
and license rates, and all kind of things,” said 
Hallie. “Marbury figured it up, I know, and 
it was pretty expensive.” 

“Are they paid for being pathfinders?” asked 
Polly. 

“Of course they must be. It’s work.” 

“It could be work and play mixed,” said Polly, 
gravely. “I’m going to ask Senator Yates and 
Marbury all about it, girls, and let’s lay the va- 
cation question on the table until I get home 
again.” 

“Second the motion,” cried Ted. Parliamen- 
tary rules never bothered any session of the club 
so long as general results were obtained. And 
when the meeting adjourned, Polly’s face was 
aglow with excitement and anticipation. Jean 
followed her out into the long hall, after she had 
told the rest good-bye. She leaned over the bal- 
ustrade smiling down at the gay, purposeful face. 

“I’m sure it can happen if we wish and wish 
for it, and work for it too,” said Polly. “And 
we needn’t go ’way out west either. Suppose 
we just cruised all around Virginia and helped 


34 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


the Senator find out new roads. I don’t believe 
it’s so hard to run a car. You just oil it up, and 
keep on the right side of the road.” 

“Oh, Polly, Polly,” Jean shook her head de- 
spairingly, but with merry eyes. “I do believe 
you’d hitch a wagon to a star and tell it to make 
a record on the Milky Way.” 

“Never mind, Miss Murray,” Polly replied 
firmly; “if the girls all stand by me, I know it 
can happen.” 


CHAPTER III 


AT WHITE CHIMNEYS 

Monday noon the bay shore local left two pas- 
sengers at the little station of Wenoka. 

It was beautifully clear and mild for Decem- 
ber. In the distance were glimpses of old Chesa- 
peake’s vivid blue expanse. Distant uplands 
scalloped the horizon line. The roads were dry 
and frozen just enough to make them firm for 
riding. 

“Humph! Ah must say,” grunted Auntie 
Welcome as the train moved away. “Ain’t a 
soul hyar to say howdy. Nice doin’s.” 

Polly’s alert eyes had caught sight of a moving 
spot on the landscape, though, and her sharp ears 
detected the throb of a motor. Presently it 
turned the curve of the road at the station, a smart 
looking olive and black runabout, and Hallie 
waved joyously to them from the driver’s seat in 
front. 

“There they are,” cried Polly, waving back. 

“Ah suttinly thought a gentlemun like de 


36 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Senator would have a coach to send,” murmured 
Welcome, eyeing the car with suspicion as it drew 
up alongside the platform. “Ah’m goin’ to sit 
right hyar on de baggage. Mis’ Polly, and see it 
gits up all right.” 

Polly’s brown eyes gleamed with mischief. 

“Aunty, I do believe you’re afraid to ride with 
us.” 

“’Fraid!” puffed Welcome with aggressive 
dignity. “Go ’long, chile, go ’long. Ah say. 
Ain’t a mite ’fraid, me dat’s faced crocodiles in 
mah day. Ah’m jes’ cautious.” 

Marbury sprang from the car, and came to- 
wards them, head bared, hand outstretched, face 
smiling. He was taller and manlier than when 
they had met him on board the Hippocampus, 
nearly two years previous. 

“I’m sorry I was late. Miss Polly, but it’s all 
Hallie’s fault. She nearly made me run into a 
telegraph pole up the road.” 

“I’m learning how to run a car, Polly,” ex- 
claimed Hallie, proudly. “Truly I am. I can 
go on a straight road now at low speed, but I 
don’t know what the handles are for, I mean the 
brakes. There are some you have to grip and 
some you step on, and it gets me all mixed up.” 


AT WHITE CHIMNEYS 


37 


Here AVelcome came forw^ard, and dropped 
one of her most majestic curtseys, explaining 
that she would stay behind with the two trunks, 
and not ride up in that ‘‘puffin’ autobilicus.” 

“I wish you’d try a ride with us, Aunty,” said 
IMarbury. “I’ll promise not to go over first 
speed, and we’ll run easily.” 

“You’re likely to run over any ole thing, chile,” 
Welcome told him, firmly. “Ah ain’t takin’ no 
chances whatsoever dese days. De Admiral’s 
down at Hot Springs wif plumbago at his age, 
and it’s enough ter make sensible folkses take 
care ob dere mortal coils.” 

Polly stepped into the tonneau after Hallie, 
and settled back for the five-mile run up to White 
Chimneys. 

“Mother’s sending a team down after the 
trunks, so you won’t have to wait long. Aunty,” 
Marbury called as they waved good-bye to the 
placid old figure sitting on the willow hamper. 
He sent the car forward smoothly, and Polly 
drew in a deep breath of delight, as she tied a 
long brown veil down over her hat. 

“Do you know that I’ve hardly ever ridden 
even in one of these machines, Hallie? Grand- 
father’s a dear old treasure, but he can’t bear 


38 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


motor cars. He says the span of greys and Ba- 
laam will last as long as he does, and he’s per- 
fectly satisfied with them. Are cars very hard to 
run, Marbury?” 

Marbury did not glance back, but kept his eyes 
fixed keenly on the road ahead of them. 

“You’ve no time to eat peanuts while you’re at 
this wheel,” he laughed. “Father wouldn’t allow 
me out alone with a car for two years, and I’d 
been driving with him off and on all that time 
too. I think you have to keep at it until it is 
fairly second nature to do the right thing at the 
right time. When you see danger ahead, your 
hand should reach out for the clutch brake just 
by instinct.” 

“Reach, then,” Hallie called excitedly, as they 
turned a curve at the top of the hill. “Mule cart 
ahead!” 

Plodding comfortably along was an old grey 
mule hauling a load of evergreens and spruce in 
an old two-wheeled cart. Half buried up to his 
eartips in the green branches was an old darky, a 
grey beaver hat pulled low over his spectacled 
eyes. Marbury threw in the brake and pulled 
up behind the fragrant boughs trailing on the 
ground. 


AT WHITE CHIMNEYS 


39 


“Uncle Pharaoh!” he called cheerily. “May 
I pass, please?” 

There was no response. The old mule kept 
steadily along. The white beaver never even 
waggled. 

“Let’s all call him,” Hallie suggested. So 
they sang out in chorus, “Oh, Uncle Pharaoh! 
Uncle Pharaoh!” 

“Whoa, dere,” Uncle Pharaoh admonished the 
mule, and stopped short. When he saw who it 
was in the car, he began to unwind the gayly 
striped woolen comforter from his throat, and 
chuckled. 

“Howdy, Marse Marbury, howdy boy,” he 
laughed. “You feel like givin’ me an’ Skeeters 
a race to-day?” 

“Not today. Uncle,” said Marbury. “I’m 
afraid you’d beat me.” As they passed, the 
girls waved to the old man. “That’s father’s 
favorite citizen in Wenoka. He’s nearly ninety 
and still works around by the day. He doesn’t 
really believe the war’s over yet, father says, and 
still votes a straight ticket for President Lin- 
coln.” 

“He’s carrying the trees around to the little 
colored children from Aunt Margaret,” Hallie 


40 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


chimed in. '‘They all call her Mrs. Santa 
Claus, Polly, in the cabins along the bayshore 
road. Oh, I just love to come down here for 
Christmas. It seems to last two weeks, and we 
have such good times.” 

“Are there many guests?” asked Polly, with 
almost her first touch of shyness. Among girls 
of her own age, she felt at home, but this was her 
very first trip away from Glenwood as a guest. 

“Randy Dinwiddie’s coming and his sister 
Cary. You’ll like them. Miss Polly. Rand’s at 
Annapolis with me, midshipman. And Cousin 
Pen. That’s all excepting Dean Philips from 
Richmond. He’s a classmate of father’s, and 
always comes down to hold the midnight Christ- 
mas service at our little chapel every year.” 

“Oh, but at the party Christmas night a lot 
more come from around the country, you know, 
Polly,” Hallie added. “This afternoon we’re 
going up after laurel and everything we can find 
to decorate with.” 

The car went around another curve, over a 
stone bridge, and up an avenue of trees. There 
were tall stone posts at the entrance gates, over- 
run with creepers that still kept a deep tinge of 
crimson in their dry leaves. Half a mile ahead 


AT WHITE CHIMNEYS 


41 


Polly could see white chimneys rising above the 
trees, tall, narrow ones above gables and cornices. 

Marbury threw on high speed, and the car took 
the smooth graveled road like a skimming bird. 
The girls had no time for further talk, but lifted 
their faces to the wind, and enjoyed the spin. It 
did not seem a minute until they drew up before 
the wide veranda, with its tall white columns, and 
low broad steps. Polly gave a little gasp of de- 
light. 

“Oh, isn’t it welcoming!” she exclaimed. 
“Just as if it held out its arms to us.” 

At this season of the year the full beauty of 
the grounds and distant view was lacking but 
even with the forlornness of windswept gardens 
and leafless trees, there was a charm and spa- 
ciousness about the old mansion that stole over 
one like a spell. 

Polly turned her head around to Marbury with 
one of her quick impulses. “Don’t you love it?” 

“We’re glad that you do,” answered Marbury, 
with a touch of his father’s old-time courtesy as 
he assisted the two girls out of the car, and they 
went up the wide steps to where Mrs. Yates 
awaited them. 


CHAPTER IVi 


MISTLETOE AND MOTORING 

There were so many things to see and get 
acquainted with that first wonderful week at 
White Chimneys that Polly began to feel like a 
squirrel in a cage whirling around and around. 

Mrs. Yates gave her a welcome that was full 
of gentle motherly graciousness, doubly cheer- 
ing to a girl who had known no mother’s love for 
years. 

Polly never forgot the picture her hostess 
made in the bright December sunshine, as she 
stepped from the wide entrance doors that first 
morning and held out her arms to her. 

Her hair had once been the sunniest among all 
the belles of the old Baltimore inner circle. 
Even now, the silver threads could not entirely 
hide the soft golden sheen. Her eyes were grave 
and tender, ever ready to light up with interest. 
Polly had always wondered how Mrs. Yates 
managed to be so interesting and sympathetic. 


MISTLETOE AND MOTORING 43 


and say so little. It must be her smile, she de- 
cided, and the influence she radiated on those 
around her. 

“Welcome to White Chimneys, child,” she had 
said, taking Polly in her arms and kissing the 
rosy cheeks. “Why, you’re nearly as tall as I 
am, Polly. Did the drive seem long? Hallie, 
you can take Polly up to her room, and both of 
you prepare for lunch. Clarinda?” Polly saw 
somebody bobbing up and do\Mi making funny 
httle curtseys in the shadows of the old oak hall- 
way, and saying “Yas’m, yas’m,” over and over 
again. “You look after all of Miss Polly’s 
wants.” 

“Aunty Welcome came with me,” said Polly. 
“You know she never would have allowed me to 
come alone.” 

But Clarinda led the way up the broad wind- 
ing staircase, and back to the guest-room that 
was to be Polly’s during her visit. 

Here a log fire burned lazily and comfortably 
in the deep rock fireplace. There was a pun- 
gent scent of pine and hemlock through the room, 
and on the table between the windows stood a 
low grey earthen jar filled with mountain laurel. 

After lunch, the two girls had settled down 


44 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


in front of the fire on the rug. Marbury and 
Mrs. Yates had gone for a spin in the car over to 
Mount Tom. Polly had asked at once, with her 
relish for adventure, where Mount Tom was, and 
what it was. 

“It’s a great hill of rock about twelve miles 
from here. Aunt Margaret goes there every 
Christmas for her mistletoe. There are Indian 
graves there, and some old ruins that date back 
to the time of the early settlements. Come in.” 

The tap at the door had been a very light one, 
and now a head was poked in inquisitively. It 
was a delightful head. Polly saw a round, 
plump, middle-aged face, with a pair of dimples, 
and surely the merriest, youngest blue eyes that 
forty-odd ever claimed. Their owner wore a pale 
blue silk boudoir cap with a soft frill of delicate 
lace around it. Polly thought how much the 
head resembled Dolly Madison. 

“Oh, Cousin Pen, do come in and meet Polly,” 
exclaimed Hallie, springing up from the hearth 
rug. 

“I felt it in my bones that I was missing some- 
thing nice,” smiled the newcomer as she took 
Polly’s hand in hers. She was shorter than 
Polly too, and the latter liked her at once. “I’m 


MISTLETOE AND MOTORING 45 


making shadowgraphs for the tree celebration in 
the Hollow,” she added. “Don’t you girls want 
to help?” 

Did they? Back they went to the big sunny 
room at the end of the corridor, where Miss Har- 
mon held undisputed sway. It was littered with 
every conceivable sort of holiday clutter. Once 
Hallie had told Polly back at Calvert Hall, when 
she was rushed with studies and had said she 
couldn’t do more than two things at a time, that 
Cousin Penelope Harmon could do sixty-nine 
different things at one time. 

It surely looked as though she could that first 
day, Polly thought. There were bags and bun- 
dles of all sizes and colors waiting to be done up, 
or undone. The couch was laden with ground 
pine and evergreen. Holly and mistletoe filled 
two great baskets in another corner. 

“See what the boys gathered for me this morn- 
ing,” said Penelope cheerily. “They didn’t 
know where to put it, so I said just to bring it 
in here where it would be handy.” 

“I can make wreaths,” volunteered Polly. 

“Then set right to work, child. There’s the 
ball of green twine behind you on the table, and 
the scissors are under the sheet of music on the 


46 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


stand. Hallie can clip the mistletoe and make it 
up into clusters for the dining-room. There’s 
plenty more coming from Mount Tom. We’re 
fixing up boxes to send away to the hospitals, 
too.” 

‘T’m going to tuck a bunch right in your hair 
Christmas Eve, Cousin Pen,” said Hallie, mis- 
chievously. 

‘Tt will go in easier under your bow of ribbon,” 
Penelope answered good temperedly. Polly’s 
eyes, bright with anticipation, watched her as she 
went to and fro, with noiseless slippered feet, 
attending first to one thing then to another. 
“You see,” she added, “Mrs. Yates has all she 
can attend to, so I always run down from New 
York to help her with the decorations and tree. 
Where’s the big grey elephant, girls, with the red 
blanket? It’s the prize for the pickaninny who 
draws the lucky number in the wish cake.” 

“What’s the wish cake. Miss Harmon?” asked 
Polly. 

“It’s for the little kiddies from the Wenoka 
shore settlement. We have a special tree for 
them, and old Uncle Pharaoh brings along his 
banjo, and things are very gay downstairs in the 
big hall that night. You see, Polly, here in this 


MISTLETOE AND MOTORING 47 


little tag end of Virginia, we’re not progressive. 
We are pretty peacefully situated on this strip 
of tidewater land, between the old bay and the 
river, and the great currents of life hardly even 
ruffle us.” 

‘T think we grow too contented if we stay 
down here too long,” Hallie put in with a rest- 
ful sigh. “It’s too good to be true.” 

“Grandfather says it’s better for a good sailor 
to know all the gales that blow over the seven 
seas.” 

“I think he’s right, Polly.” Miss Harmon 
paused a moment, and looked down at the pine 
knot fire blazing on the hearth. “I was born 
right here at White Chimneys. My mother was 
the Senator’s sister. So Wenoka seemed a very 
large slice of the earth to me those days, and a 
very busy place too. Now, I live part of the 
year in New York, and part I travel abroad.” 

“Cousin Pen’s motored all over Europe, and 
even in Japan and India, Polly.” 

“Motored?” repeated Polly, wonderingly. 
“Not alone?” 

“No. My brother and I did Japan together 
and the East, but in France and England I 
usually travel alone or with a woman friend.” 


48 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


From the outdoor world there came the low, 
musical tremolo of a siren horn, and the girls 
went to the windows. 

“It’s Mrs. Yates and Marbury,” said Hallie. 
“Just see all the mistletoe and laurel they have.” 

Polly was looking down at the trim runabout. 
It looked so compact, and clean lined, and busy, 
as Marbury said. 

“Is it very hard to learn how to run one,” she 
asked, after they had waved to the others, and 
come back to the fire. “They always seem to me 
to be acting so impatient and skittish.” 

“Well, I’m not so sure,” answered Penelope, 
stoutly. “I do like to run my own car, but still, 
in case of anything going wrong, it’s good to have 
a man around. I had a small two-cylinder car 
in France, and the roads there are delightful to 
ride over. It really takes away half the re- 
sponsibility, having a good road ahead of you. 
We’re just beginning to waken up to our poor 
roads here, but the best thing about America is 
that once the alarm clock does go off, we are 
wide awake. Take the old turnpike here in Vir- 
ginia, I mean the State road over west. It used 
to be dreadful and now it’s the pride of Virginia. 
Ever been over it, Polly?” 


MISTLETOE AND MOTORING 49 


‘Dh, Miss Harmon, I don’t know anything at 
all about motoring,” Polly exclaimed. “And 
I do want to so much. How many people can 
ride in one?” 

“What a funny question,” said Hallie. 
“Seven, isn’t it. Cousin Pen?” 

“That’s all unless you sit on each other’s laps. 
We had a car you would have liked, Polly, when 
we did Japan. Creston, my brother, had it fixed 
up with everything for light housekeeping. We 
could even sleep in it; at least I did.” 

“Five girls, one chaperon, and a driver,” 
counted off Polly reflectively. “Does it cost 
much to run a car for a month or so?” 

“Several hundred dollars.” 

“You may as well talk of chartering the 
morning star, Polly,” said Hallie. “I know 
what you’re figuring on, our vacation, aren’t 
you?” 

“It’s much cheaper motoring here in Vir- 
ginia than up north.” Penelope took off her 
cap. “Run away now, girls, I’m going to 
dress.” 

“Would you go with us as chaperon. Miss 
Pen?” asked Polly. 

“If all the other girls are as nice as you, I 


50 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


might/’ laughed Penelope. “It would be more 
exciting than Japan or India, I fancy.” 

“Aunt Margaret’s calling us to help put u]^ 
the laurel,” said Hallie. “Come along, Polly, 
or you’ll be drawing up the route, and making 
lists of canned goods. That’s the very first 
thing those girls do when they talk vacation 
time over. Cousin Pen. They make lists of good 
things to eat.” 

“A good soldier remembers his commissariat 
department first. But if you’re going on a mo- 
tor trip, you’ll have to carry food in capsules, 
Polly.” 

“I don’t care how it’s carried so long as we go,” 
said Polly, happily. 


CHAPTER V 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 

During the days that followed, Mrs. Yates 
and the Senator were engaged with their own 
grown-up guests, so Polly and Hallie were left 
a great deal to their own “ways and means,” 
as Hallie said. But every hour she could spare. 
Miss Harmon took them out for long spins with 
Marbury in his runabout. 

The weather was mild, and no snow covered 
the ground. Polly never tired of skimming 
over the frozen roads in the runabout. The 
country all around White Chimneys abounded 
in historical interest,* and she wished that the 
girls were with her to enjoy it all, and the tales 
that Penelope loved to tell. 

Most of all the girls enjoyed Mount Tom, and 
its Indian ruins. Not far away was a spot sup- 
posed to have been the last wild-wood home of 
Pocahontas. Only a pile of rock marked the 
place. 


52 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

“Oh, I do love our little brown princess, don’t 
you. Miss Harmon?” Polly cried. ‘T think 
we Virginians have the dearest heroine of the 
old Indian days.” 

“Remember when she came to the starving 
colony with her native followers, bearing corn 
to save their lives?” asked Hallie. 

“Do you girls know that John Randolph, our 
statesman, was immensely proud of being sixth 
in line from that little brown princess?” 

“Aunty Welcome declares her seventy-fourth 
grandmother was a queen in Samaliland in 
South Africa, wherever that is,” laughed Polly, 
as she perched on one of the ancient grey 
rocks. “And when she says it, old Uncle Peter 
always shakes his head, and says it’s so far back 
there’s no refutation permissible.” 

“Spin about, Marbury,” directed Penelope, 
and Marbury slipped into second speed, after 
they were all packed in once more for the return 
trip. “Here, let me try my hand. I haven’t 
touched a steering wheel since I left England 
a month ago.” 

“This car’s easy to control,” said Marbury, 
and the two began talking about the car just 
as if it were a human being, as Polly said. She 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 


53 


listened in silence to comparative values on 
sparking plugs and running gear, connecting 
rods and cylinders, and all the other talk of the 
road, but with a mental picture forming in her 
mind of what sort of trip the Vacation Club 
would have next summer. 

“You Imow, Miss Polly,” said Marbury once, 
as he turned to the two girls, “Cousin Pen knows 
as much about the overhaul of a machine as 
anybody ever did.” 

Penelope showed her white, even teeth in a 
quick smile of appreciation, her eyes narrowed 
as they watched the stretch of road ahead, her 
chin pointing forward to the breeze as though 
she were at the pilot wheel of a boat. 

“It seems so odd for a woman even to care 
for machinery. I’d love to know all about the 
inside of a car too.” 

“When we stop, let Marbury take her bonnet 
off, and show you, Polly,” Hallie suggested. 

“Whose bonnet?” 

They all laughed over that query, and Polly 
took it good-temperedly when Marbury ex- 
plained what he meant by the “bonnet.” It 
was the cover over the cylinders. Then Polly 
put the question that had been in her mind for 


54 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


several days, ever since her visit that first time in 
Miss Harmon’s room. 

“Couldn’t we girls undertake a motor tour?” 

“Here, Marbury, take the wheel,” said Miss 
Harmon, happily. “I can never carry on a se- 
rious conversation when I’m running a car. I 
tried to once, and nearly snapped a telegraph 
pole in two. Now, then, Polly, child. Back to 
that motor club of yours that is still pathfinding 
over the cloud highways. It costs a great deal 
to run a car, pay for the upkeep, and a 
chauffeur.” 

“Yes, and it’s just like the old darky’s recipe 
for chicken soup,” put in Hallie. “First find 
your chicken. Where’s your car, Polly?” 

Polly’s eyes danced with responsive fun. 
She was quick to see the humor of her proposi- 
tion, but so many hopes had come true for the 
club in the past that even a motor trip did not 
seem wholly impossible. 

“What could we rent a car for, say for one 
month?” 

“Just the car itself, or car and chauffeur?” 

“I mean just the car itself.” 

“I’m not sure down here in Virginia. We 
could find out from the Senator.” 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 


55 


“Would two hundred dollars cover the cost 
of car and driver?” 

“Polly goes right to the main point,” said 
Penelope, gravely. “If you didn’t have to re- 
pair your car much, it might. But I’m not sure, 
with your driver’s salary, and gasoline, and gen- 
eral upkeep. If you had any break-downs and 
had to replace a couple of punctured tires, that 
would send the expense up. I should want 
three hundred to make sure.” 

“I don’t see why we couldn’t rent a car,” said 
Polly, hopefully, “one with chauffeur and every- 
thing all found, and plenty of baggage room.” 

“There never is any baggage room to speak 
of unless you get a ’bus top, or have a camp body 
put on.” 

“What’s a camp body?” 

“Oh, Polly, you cross examiner,” cried 
Penelope. “I’d have to show you a picture of 
one so you would understand. They use them 
for long overland trips out west, I believe. The 
regular passenger body is removed, and in its 
place they put this camp body. The seats at the 
side can be used for bunks, and there are all sorts 
of cubby holes for storing things away.” 

“That’s the sort I want,” said Polly, quickly. 


56 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“But, child, it costs too much for you girls to 
undertake.” 

Polly leaned back again, pondering. 

“It’s the queerest thing, Hallie,” she said 
presently. “Just as soon as I want to do any- 
thing it always seems half done to me. Some- 
where there must be the car we could use, and 
surely if we girls spend every spare minute 
through the winter and spring planning for the 
trip and finding out about cars and their insides 
and their ‘tricks and their manners,’ as Miss 
Diantha says, we could do it. I know all the 
others would love to. And we needn’t take a 
long trip. How far can you go in a day, Miss 
Harmon?” 

“That depends on your roads and your speed, 
Polly. Jogging along as you girls would want 
to, you can make about a hundred miles a 
day.” 

“That’s too many,” said Polly, “unless we try 
to cover Virginia and Maryland, or some other 
bordering state. We want to take our time, and 
make discoveries.” 

“You’ll make discoveries if you try going off 
the beaten track fast enough,” Hallie interposed. 

“Why not advertise, Polly. ‘Wanted: well 


TPIE PIRATE TREASURE 


57 


behaved, perfectly tame car for vacation pur- 
poses.’ ” This from Marbury. 

“Don’t let them tease or discourage you one 
bit,” said Penelope, warmly. “There’s no rea- 
son why you girls shouldn’t do it if you can raise 
the money. You want a good reliable driver, 
though. He would be a large item of expense, 
but you must have him.” 

“Oh, there are so many things I must have,” 
laughed Polly. “Let’s do what Aunty Wel- 
come says. ‘Dey ain’t nuffin’ sutten but de 
fleetin’ moment, and you have to hold fast to its 
coat tails or even it gets away from you.’ ” 

This particular moment was fleeting swiftly. 
They had ridden many miles from White Chim- 
neys, and now turned back from the low shore 
roads, and were making for the higher land. 

“It’s just glorious,” said Polly. “Like steer- 
ing a boat, isn’t it, Marbury? What are all 
those handles beside you?” 

“Levers,” answered Penelope. “Don’t ask 
the man at the steering wheel questions. Ask 
me. Do you expect to know the proper names 
of everything concerning a car in your motor 
club?” 

“I think we should. Supposing some day the 


58 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


car turns turtle and our chaufF eur is underneath. 
Wouldn’t it be a good thing then if we girls 
knew what to do?” 

“I won’t be your chauffeur,” Marbury called 
over one shoulder. “I’d be afraid you might get 
me into some scrape purposely so you could get 
a chance to run the car.” 

Polly laughed with the rest, but as soon as 
they reached White Chimneys she went up to 
her own room and wrote a long letter to Sue, 
who was club secretary. It went direct to the 
point, and Sue would read it to the others, Polly 
knew, so after it had gone down in the post 
bag, she felt as though the work were really 
started. 

“Polly, you’ve been evading your share of the 
trimming,” called Miss Harmon from a step 
ladder in the great hall. “Come here immedi- 
ately and help me fasten a holly wreath under 
every candle bracket.” 

Polly went to work with a will until every 
wreath was in place, and the great boughs of 
spruce and hemlock were crossed above the 
arches. Hallie and Marbury hung festoons of 
southern smilax to cover the wall spaces, and old 
Uncle Pharaoh brought up the tree, a tall taper- 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 


59 


ing spruce that made the whole house redolent 
with piney perfume. 

‘Tf we push on these old panels we may come 
across the pirate treasure,” said Marbury. 

“What’s that?” asked Polly, quickly. She 
came down from the ladder. Mrs. Yates and 
her guests were resting for the evening. Only 
Marbury and his chum Randy were with the 
girls and Miss Harmon. 

“Let’s have tea and honey scones by the fire 
in here,” Hallie suggested. “I’ll go and tell 
Clarinda to bring it, and then Cousin Pen will 
tell us the story, won’t you?” 

Polly never forgot that twilight hour. Al- 
ready the expectant hush of Christmas Eve 
seemed to be falling over the outdoor world. 
Down below stairs someone was playing on a 
fiddle. The music came faintly to them as they 
sat around the great open fireplace. Randy 
and Marbury had stretched out comfortably on 
the rugs before the blaze. And over the teacups, 
Penelope told the old story that had come down 
through the years as White Chimneys’ ghost 
tale. 

“It was back in the days of the buccaneers, 
when Sir Edward Morgan sailed the Spanish 


60 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Main. Old Percival Yates built this house, you 
know. And one night his servants came run- 
ning with tidings of a strange ship that had 
sailed up the river. It had cast anchor down at 
the old stone landing that you can still find a 
trace of, and two boats were sent ashore. 

“Old Percival was bedridden at that time with 
gout, and his daughter Barbara bade the serv- 
ants prepare for guests, for in those days neigh- 
bors were far distant from each other, and it 
might be some of her father’s friends from 
Jamestown. The fires were built high, and food 
was prepared, and I don’t doubt that Barbara 
herself stood out yonder on the steps to take her 
father’s place in welcoming the unexpected 
guests. 

“But when they came in sight, she saw they 
were strangers and dreadful looking ones at that, 
although the leader was splendidly garbed, and 
swept her a low bow. He had been driven up 
the river by a terrible gale, he said. His ship 
needed some repairs before they put out to sea 
again. Could he and his men replenish their 
store of supplies? Might they seek friendly 
shelter beneath the White Chimneys that had 
guided them for miles? 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 


61 


“Barbara told them her father was very ill, 
and any shock might bring on his death, so she 
must beg them to be very quiet, but in his name 
she was most glad to offer them hospitality. 
And she left them feasting here in the great hall. 
You see that little gallery at the north end? The 
two doors that open from it lead into the Sena- 
tor’s room and to Mrs. Yates’s sitting-room; the 
latter used to be Barbara’s. Hearing sounds of 
quarrelling late that night, she rose softly from 
bed, and, wrapping herself in a long dressing 
gown, stole silently out on the gallery and looked 
down on the scene below. 

“All the dishes had been gathered up in the 
table cloth and thrown in a corner, and on the 
bare table were sacks of gold and silver. Then 
she heard them planning to kill her father and 
take over the house as a refuge, for in those days 
this was far removed from any of the settlements. 
But there were two of the men who refused. 
Their host was ill, and his daughter had been kind 
to them. Divide fairly, they said, and get back 
to the ship with all the supplies they could take. 
And before Barbara realized what was happen- 
ing, they were fighting, the candles were over- 
turned, and the hall was in darkness. She ran 


62 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


to her father’s bedroom, and put her arms about 
him, expecting any instant the pirates would ap- 
pear, but after a while their shouts died away, 
and leaning out the open window she heard them 
making for their boats. 

“Her father told the terrified servants to go 
down and look here in the hall. All the treasure 
had vanished excepting a few scattered gold 
pieces under the table, and on the floor lay the 
leader, wounded. 

“Old Percival said to put him to bed, and tend 
him as a guest, for he was a human being in dis- 
tress. And for weeks after little Barbara saw 
that he was tended by an old colored woman until 
his wounds were healed. When he was able to 
leave, they gave him a horse to ride, and safe con- 
duct to the coast, and as he said farewell to his 
host, he gave him some sacks of gold. 

“ Tf I return safely some day, keep them for 
me,’ he said, ‘but if at the end of ten years you 
hear nothing, let this little maid keep them for 
her dowry.’ 

“ ‘They shall be kept,’ promised old Percival. 
‘Bend thy head, and I will tell thee where to hide 
them.’ 

“The stranger obeyed, and smiled as he caught 


THE PIRATE TREASURE 


63 


the whisper of the old man. He left the room 
with the sacks of gold, and the next hour he was 
gone from White Chimneys. Somewhere in a 
secret hiding place known only to her father, Bar- 
bara knew the pirate gold lay hidden. And only 
a few years afterwards, she bent over old Perci- 
val’s pillow as he lay dying, trying to catch what 
he was saying. 

“ ‘Three steps up, and three panels high,’ he 
murmured. 

“And though she begged him to tell more, he 
could not. That night he died, and with him,” 
Penelope leaned forward mysteriously and low- 
ered her voice, “with him died the secret of pirate 
gold. The stranger never returned, and Bar- 
bara sought for years the spot in this old house 
where her father had told him to hide his treas- 
ure. But they used to say that the pirate chief’s 
spirit came back to this hall just before Christ- 
mas, and tried to find the old secret panel.” 
Miss Penelope’s voice died away, and the girls 
were silent. 

“I wish I could find it,” said Marbury, sitting 
up, and eyeing the old shadowy wainscoting 
above his head. “ ‘Three steps up, and three 
panels high.’ ” 


64 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘Ts that the end, Cousin Pen?” Hallie whis- 
pered, her blue eyes round with interest. “Did 
they ever find it?” 

“Not yet,” laughed Miss Harmon. “So there 
is something for you girls to dream about tonight. 
Time to dress for dinner now.” 

“ ‘Three steps up and three panels high,’ ” 
mused Polly, gazing up at the staircase that 
ascended to the gallery at the end of the long 
room. “If I lived here I should go about press- 
ing every single panel until I found the right 
one.” 

“I suppose every Yates who has lived here since 
old Percival resolved to do the same thing, 
Polly,” said Penelope, briskly. “And it is only 
an old tale after all. Hurry and dress, both of 
you.” 


CHAPTER VI 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 

“Doan’t yo’ git yo’ head turned, honey, now,” 
warned Aunty Welcome, as she leaned over the 
balustrade to watch Polly and Hallie go arm in 
arm down to the Christmas party. Then she 
went to take her place on the gallery at the end 
of the long hall, with Clarinda and two of the 
other housemaids. 

“Is it really your first party, Polly?” whis- 
pered Hallie, “I mean with grown-ups?” 

Polly nodded her head. She could not speak 
just yet. At the turn of the staircase she paused 
to look over the railing. All the candles were 
lighted in the wall sconces. They gave such a 
soft mellow radiance. Mrs. Yates was talking 
to the Dean and a tall fair-haired girl in white 
with holly in her hair. 

“That’s Cary Dinwiddie, Randy’s sister,” Hal- 
lie said under her breath. “She came down 
from Richmond tonight. Isn’t she lovely ? Some 


66 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


day Marbury’s going to marry her, he says.” 

Polly watched Cary Dinwiddle all that long 
happy evening. As she wrote home to the Ad- 
miral the following day, she didn’t know there 
were any more girls like her left. 

“Mrs. Yates says that Cary is like one of the 
old-time Virginia belles, she is so graceful and 
sweet. There were other girls there, grand- 
father, but they were like a lot of sweet peas and 
honeysuckle blossoms with one lovely pink rose 
in the center. That’s Cary. I told her about 
you and Glenwood, and asked her to visit us if 
she could some time. I hope I will be like her 
when I am nineteen. Not in looks, of course, be- 
cause I’m just your brown gypsy girl, but I mean 
in charm and manner. 

“And, grandfather dear,” underlined, “I have 
something so important to tell you I can hardly 
wait to get home. I haven’t even told Aunty 
Welcome. Is Dr. Smith visiting at Glenwood? 
I do hope so, for I know he would encourage me 
in going ahead with the plan. But I think you 
will too, when you know everything. 

“We will be home Saturday on the 2:15 train. 
Don’t you trouble to come to meet us if you 
are not well yet. Just send Balaam.” 



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POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 67 


Every day following Christmas was filled with 
novelty and enjoyment, but after breakfast each 
morning Polly would slip away to the garage and 
watch Marbury and Randy while they tinkered 
over the runabout. 

Once Cary accompanied her, in short skirt and 
sweater, and Polly told her of the wonderful plan 
for the coming summer. 

“It is fine, Polly,” she said. “I only wish I 
were eligible. And if it does materialize, I want 
you girls to be sure when you get to Richmond, 
to come out and visit me at Meadowbrook. It is 
only a short run from the city, and you could 
easily plan on staying over night. I would love 
to have you, and so would my mother.” 

“Better come. Miss Polly,” Randy put in from 
under the car. “You don’t know what a jolly 
place we have up there, and Mother would pet 
you all so you wouldn’t want to go any farther.” 

Polly felt she was fully justified in accepting 
the invitation on the spot for the vacation 
jaunters. 

“Indeed I wish there were Meadowbrooks 
scattered all along the way for us,” she said. “I 
have Aunt Evelyn in Richmond, but in the sum- 
mer time she always goes to the mountains.” 


68 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“North?’’ asked Hallie. 

“No, down around Asheville, in North Caro- 
lina. I wonder if it will be dreadfully hot trying 
to tour in July and August.” 

“Awful,” Randy replied, cheerfully. “Unless 
you rise at dawn, and ride until about ten, then 
choose a shady spot, and sleep until four, then 
drive until eight. That’s the way we boys would 
do, wouldn’t we, Marbury, and find places to 
swim when we rested.” 

“I shall remember that advice,” Polly re- 
marked, nodding her head wisely. “Hallie, we’ll 
carry our swimming suits with us.” 

“Say, why don’t you put in a silk tent, too?” 
Randy queried. He rolled over, and stuck his 
head out like a friendly turtle. “One of the fel- 
lows from home took a motor cycle trip with me 
up through the hills last year, and we carried a 
silk tent with us. It’s light, you know, and 
strong, and straps under your seat, and then 
you’re independent if you don’t make a town or 
house for the night. Saves money too, and after 
last year out west you girls ought to be good 
campers.” 

“Would a silk tent cost very much?” 

“I’m not sure. Ours belonged to the other boy, 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 69 


Teddie Baxter. Write to any firm that handles 
outing supplies, and you’ll get their list.” 

‘Tsn’t it queer,” said Polly, when Cary and 
Hallie and she strolled back to the house, “that 
once you make up your mind, you seem just to 
sail along, and everything happens for the best. 
I’ve learned ever so much from Randy, and good 
practical things too. Why, with a silk tent and a 
fireless cooker, we could cut expenses in half.” 

When she reached the house Miss Harmon was 
waiting for her, and laughed when she saw Polly’s 
all-enveloping brown apron with oil smudges on 
it. 

“You must carry jumpers with you as I did 
abroad. I had jumper and overalls to slip on 
when I had to do any repairing at all. I wish 
you girls could have seen some of the roadside 
receptions that I held in that outfit going through 
Holland.” 

Cary and Hallie went away to find Mrs. Yates, 
and the “conspirators,” as the Senator had 
dubbed them teasingly, went to his study. There 
was a definite purpose written on Polly’s expres- 
sive face. 

“Get out your pencil now,” said the Senator, 
after greeting them. “The very first machinery 


70 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


to set in motion on a trip such as you propose 
making is a well-sharpened pencil.” 

“I have one ready, sir,” Polly replied, 
promptly. “It’s been working regularly every 
day since I came to White Chimneys, and I do 
really think it has brought the trip nearer. Y ou 
get down to facts this way, and two summers of 
earning our vacations has made every single girl 
among us respect facts.” 

The Senator laughed at this, and at Polly’s 
serious face. He opened up an automobile map 
of Virginia on the desk before him. 

“Where do you want to travel?” 

“Anywhere we can on the money we are able 
to raise. We haven’t talked it over very much, 
you see, but I should think we ought to start 
with our home state. There is so much about it 
we don’t know and haven’t even seen.” 

“Humph,” said the Senator, eloquently. “It’s 
a poor state for the best of motorists to try and 
get over unless they keep to the National Pike. 
If I were you, Polly, and the chief of this affair, 
I should put my car on a steamer bound north 
and take a state that has been well mapped and 
is safe.” 

“I wondered. Uncle Gordon, whether or not 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 71 


the girls could be of any help on the roads com- 
mittee/’ Miss Harmon suggested at this point. 
‘T haven’t even spoken of it to Polly yet; I waited 
for you to give your opinion. I know they 
couldn’t work with the A. A. A. — ” 

‘‘What’s that?” asked Polly, eagerly.. 

“American Automobile Association, child. 
You’ll learn to appreciate it and its protection 
later. They have their own cars and workers, 
of course. But couldn’t the girls do some sort 
of work for the State Association? They could 
trace out roads that were not well known, and 
take photographs of ditF erent places that needed 
attention, or of dangerous fording spots and awk- 
ward turns. Just as good motor scouts, I think, 
they might earn something to help defray the 
expenses of the trip, don’t you?” 

The Senator’s face was amused and sceptical. 

“We should all enjoy it,” Polly protested. 
“And we’d work faithfully.” 

“How many girls do you expect would go?” 

“Five, Isabel Lee, Sue, Ted, and myself, are 
the old members of the club. And this year we 
would have Hallie. With the chauffeur and a 
chaperon, that makes seven. And we’ve almost 
persuaded Miss Harmon to be the chaperon.” 


72 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“What about your driver? If you did good 
road work, I might secure the services of one for 
you at a lower rate. And where would you get 
your machine?” 

“Couldn’t we rent your old one, Senator?” 
asked Polly quickly. “We could have it put into 
good shape ourselves, and Marbury says its a 
splendid car only it isn’t this year’s model. I’ve 
just found out this morning that the top comes 
off, and we can put any kind we like on the 
body.” 

“The chassis,” corrected Penelope. . 

“Is it? Oh, we’ll have all the names down pat 
before it is time to turn the wheel,” laughed Polly, 
happily. “Anyway, I found out that we can 
take off that top and put on another, a seven 
seater, with a top part over that — ” 

“Too many tops to your car, Polly,” teased the 
Senator. 

“I mean the top of the tonneau, is that right? 
We must carry some suit cases along, and I don’t 
see where they go unless we fasten them on top 
some way. What is under the seats?” 

“Tool kits,” said Penelope. “And at the back 
you have your extra tires and reserve petrol 
tanks.” 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 73 


“Petrol? That’s what we call gasoline on this 
side, isn’t it?” Polly replied reflectively. 

“Dear me, I only wish I’d brought my own car 
over with me,” fretted Penelope. “I could have 
packed away you girls in it, and have spun you 
over the roads without a bit of worry.” 

“Pen, that little underhung runabout of yours 
doesn’t clear more than ten inches. You’d get 
caught on every thank-you-ma’am and turf ridge 
along our roads.” The Senator reached into his 
desk drawer and drew out some catalogues and 
booklets. “You go over these carefully, Polly, 
with either Marbury or Cousin Penelope. Take 
them home with you tomorrow if you like, and 
let the girls look them over too. Then pick out 
the build of car you think would be best suited to 
your use. Send it back to me, and I’ll see what 
can be done. If you wish to use my old car, go 
ahead. It is a good reliable make, and with a 
little overhauling will do very well for the rough 
work here. Don’t forget a medicine kit, and 
good serviceable clothing besides your pretty 
motor veils and teabaskets.” 

“I know he thinks we won’t stick to the plan,” 
said Polly, as they went back to the big sunny 
morning-room where the rest were. “But it 


74 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


doesn’t seem any harder to undertake than the 
yacht club we had two years ago up in Maine. 
Only of course the chauffeur is going to be a 
large item on our expense bill. But I know you 
will go with us, Miss Harmon. Why, it will be 
the most exciting four weeks you ever had!” 

‘T don’t doubt that one bit,” agreed Penelope 
merrily. ‘T think I shall go along. I have had 
so. little chance for any long touring trips since I 
came over this last time, that even the mishaps 
would be adventures. If Marbury were older I 
should take him with us, for he has developed 
into a very fair mechanician, but I hardly think 
he would pay much attention to his steering gear 
with five of you girls talking to him. We shall 
need a sedate, middle-aged chauffeur warranted 
not to permit the car to climb fences when Polly 
bids him see the beautiful sunset.” 

‘T think,” said Polly absently, ‘‘that we could 
string out this tour so it would last quite a while. 
We don’t care about the fashionable thorough- 
fares a bit. Why couldn’t we just spin around 
comfortably, and if it rains, put up until it stops, 
and if we come to a place that looks inviting, just 
pitch camp and enjoy it for a while? Make it a 
sunshine tour. Marbury says you get very 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 75 


hungry when motoring. Very well. We’ll be 
vegetarians, and carry plenty of nuts and raisins 
and figs with us.” 

“Better get capsuled food, Polly,” Hallie sug- 
gested, as she joined them at the end of the cor- 
ridor. “If Crullers goes we’ll feed her concen- 
trated food entirely, and that will save so much.” 

“Just the same, I’m in earnest,” protested 
Polly. “When they hear a horn toot, Marbury 
says, up go the prices along the road.” 

“I see where this expedition travels under ‘Re- 
vised Road Rules,’ by M. Yates.” 

“Letters for everybody,” called Cary, glancing 
out of the door at the head of the hall. “Uncle 
Pharaoh just brought up the mail.” 

Polly caught her breath as one from the Ad- 
miral, and one from Sue, fell in her lap. The 
first was from Glenwood, so she was sure her 
grandfather had reached home from Camden. 

Excusing herself, she ran up to her own room 
to pore over the two momentous epistles. On 
them hung all the hopes of the summer. She felt 
fairly certain the girls would all agree to her plan, 
but the Admiral’s scruples could veto everything. 
At the first few lines of his letter, a smile broke 
over Polly’s face. 


76 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“I had been dreading the journey home by 
rail, but Dr. Smith met me at Camden, and spent 
several days with me there. He has been on a 
long motor trip through Florida and South Caro- 
lina, and insisted on bringing me home with him 
in his machine. We made the journey with very 
comfortable speed, stopping at various places 
along the way to rest. It is indeed a delightful 
mode of travel.” 

‘Dh, the precious old dear,” exclaimed Polly. 

“Is yo’ speakin’ oh yo’ grandfather in dat un- 
spectful way. Mis’ Polly?” inquired Welcome 
from the big rocker where she sat mending a long 
rent in Polly’s coat. 

“But Aunty, listen, he’s been in an automobile 
all the way up from South Carolina, and he likes 
it, and you know how set he was against them.” 

“Didn’t Ah say he was gettin’ childish, and 
now he’s all irrational too, and light minded. 
When folks get unsettled in dere opinions, you 
can’t depend on ’em two minutes at a time. Jes’ 
de hour I get home I’m a’ gwine ter slap a plaster 
right on de back oh his neck, and bring him out 
oh it.” 

“Oh, dearie, let him alone,” coaxed Polly, who 
knew from long experience what one of Wei- 


POLLY LOCATES HER CAR 77 


come’s all-healing plasters was like. “Maybe we 
can coax him to help us with our trip now.” 

“Doan’t talk about dat motormobubble trip to 
me,” protested the old nurse haughtily. “Here 
AhVe lived to be most ninety or maybe it’s sev- 
enty, Ah forget, and now Ah feel jes’ like seekin’ 
some home for de discouraged and broken- 
hearted de way you and de Admiral cut up after 
all mah upbringin’.” 

Hallie tapped at the door, and looked in. 

“Uncle has been looking over the old car with 
his chauffeur and Marbury, and they say it will 
cost about eighty or a hundred to overhaul it 
properly. So he says we may take it and put it 
in shape, and if we do road work with it, he’ll call 
it square. And another thing, Polly, when we 
stop over night at hotels or houses, we girls can 
double up, and that saves room rent. Cousin 
Pen says she knows we can get through on three 
hundred dollars. And she suggests that we take 
along a fireless cooker. She likes the little con- 
tinental ones the best with two kettles, and she 
says we can manage beautifully. She was just 
telling us about some old general back in the 
seventeenth century who hated to fight on an 
empty stomach, and they had a long forced 


78 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


march, so he fixed up a sort of basket with hay 
and blankets, and put in it a potted chicken to 
brew, and it went along with the general’s kit.” 

“Chicken friccassee’s goin’ to give anybody 
courage and peace to dere souls,” said Welcome 
fervently. 

“It will give us both, and a reserve in the treas- 
ury too,” Polly said laughingly. “You’d better 
come along. Aunty.” 

“We’ll promise not to let you ride on the rum- 
bles.” 

“What are the rumbles, Hallie?” asked Polly, 
for Welcome disdained even to make response to 
the suggestion. 

“Hear our lady of the road,” Hallie teased. 
“Just you wait until you go over Virginia roads 
sitting on a rumble seat, then you’ll know.” 

“Hallie,” exclaimed Polly, “I’d sit on the bon- 
net if it would make the trip certain.” Her tone 
was so solemn and earnest that Hallie fled laugh- 
ing down the hall to tell the others, but Polly sat 
still, with the two letters in her hand. Sue’s was 
full of expectation, and she knew the girls were 
all waiting her return with outstretched hands. 


CHAPTER VII 


GATHERING THE CLAN 

Not a word of the summer plans did Polly 
breathe during the drive home from the station at 
Queen’s Landing. 

The Admiral met her with old Balaam driving 
the carriage. He was full of his old genial teas- 
ing ways, and his eyes twinkled with amusement 
at her descriptions of her first real visit away from 
home, but she noticed how quickly he wearied 
after dinner. 

It seemed good to follow him to the old con- 
sultation corner in his study. There was a deep- 
seated leather chair drawn up at one side of the 
open fireplace. Behind it was a great Chinese 
jar filled with mountain laurel. As long back as 
Polly could remember, the dragons that coiled 
about the rose and green and deep blue surface 
had reached their fire-spouting heads to the 
mountain laurel in winter time. It was a 


80 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“notion” of the Admiral’s, as Welcome would 
have said, and one he always indulged. 

Above the mantel hung a three-quarter length 
painting of Polly’s grandmother, “Mis’ Car’line,” 
in primrose brocaded satin, with damask roses on 
her lap and in her dark, rippling hair. Evening 
after evening, the Admiral would lean back in 
the large armchair and look up at the face in the 
picture, and only Polly ever ventured to disturb 
his dreams there. 

Tonight she seated herself on one arm of the 
chair, and began to swing her right foot, a sign 
always that she had something important to im- 
part. 

“Grandfather Admiral, dear.” 

“Out with it. Mate,” with a sigh of resignation. 
“I knew there was something in the wind from 
your letters. Do you want Glenwood moved to 
White Chimneys?” 

Polly shook her head from side to side, and 
smiled down at the glowing pine and chestnut 
logs. She had tied her long brown curls at the 
back of her neck instead of in Dutch fashion, 
plaited and crossed, with two bows back of her 
ears, the way she had worn it at White Chimneys. 
The Admiral liked it best this way so he could put 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


81 


back his hand and stroke the curls. And tonight 
she wanted to do everything possible to please 
him for it was her home-coming. 

“Did you have a good time riding up from 
Camden in the Doctor’s car?” So irrelevant the 
query seemed that the Admiral walked into it 
cheerily. 

“Delightful, splendid. I haven’t enjoyed a 
journey so much in years, Polly. The roads 
were hard and the weather clear, and — upon my 
word, Polly, you’re laughing at me.” 

“Why, dear, you won’t mind when I tell you 
something.” She laid both hands on his shoul- 
ders, and put her cheek down on his upstanding 
grey tuft of curls. “We girls want to do some- 
thing this coming summer, and I felt certain you 
would understand and help us, and approve — ” 

“Steady, Mate,” warned the Admiral. “Don’t 
you steer me into any uncharted channels. What 
is it?” 

Polly laughed, and squeezed his neck lovingly. 
Then she whispered slowly and distinctly into one 
ear, the one nearest to her, “We want to take a 
motor trip for our vacation.” 

“Not alone?” 

“Oh, no, indeed. Miss Harmon will go with 


82 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


us, she promised. Don’t you remember her, 
Grandfather, Penelope Harmon?” 

“But is she quite grown up?” asked the Ad- 
miral thoughtfully. “She was a girl with curls 
like these and a rose behind one ear the last time 
I can recall meeting her down at White Chim- 
neys.” 

“She is just forty-two,” Polly returned im- 
pressively. “Forty- two. Isn’t that old enough 
to be steady and responsible? Aunty Welcome 
always said any one under forty was just a giddy 
gadfly, do you remember? But Miss Harmon 
is past that. Anyway, she understands a car 
just as you do a ship, and I can’t think of a single 
reason why we shouldn’t go. Can you ?” 

She put her head on one side like a meditative 
parroquet, and the Admiral chuckled. 

“We’d be very careful, dear,” she insisted, “and 
it certainly won’t cost any more or as much as the 
trip to Wyoming last year did. Mrs. Yates said 
she would allow Hallie to go. Couldn’t I, 
Grandfather, please?” 

“I’ll consider it,” promised the Admiral eva- 
sively, but the hands about his neck only tight- 
ened their clasp. 

“That won’t help a bit. How can we go ahead 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


83 


and plan and save unless we are certain we can 
make the trip? And I have to see all the girls 
tomorrow and let them know. You understand 
how important it is, don’t you, dear, dear ship- 
mate?” 

It was the last word that unsettled the Ad- 
miral’s prejudices. When Polly called him ship- 
mate, there really was nothing to do but act up to 
the compliment. 

“Well, if Penelope Harmon goes along, and 
the Senator says the expedition has his sanction, 
and you promise to telegraph home every day 
that you’re still in sailing trim. I’ll see what can 
be done.” 

“You don’t have to see about anything. Grand- 
father,” Polly protested. “We want to do it all 
by ourselves, the same as last year. All you need 
do is consent. Maybe you can come and meet 
us along the way and ride too. You and Doctor 
Smith.” 

The Admiral gallantly accepted the invitation 
on behalf of the Doctor and himself, and smiled 
over Polly’s motherly attitude towards them both, 
quite as if it were the most natural thing in the 
world for a Rear-Admiral and famous Smith- 
sonian scientist to go trailing off over unknown 


84 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


paths after a lot of gypsying motor jaunters. 

Early the following morning, Polly went down 
to the Hall to tell the girls that the victory was 
already half won. 

Sue hurried to meet her on the way, holding 
her hat with one hand, and laughing. 

‘T saw you from the dining-room window, 
Polly, and ran. School doesn’t open until 
Tuesday, so we’ll have two days to talk things 
over, and lay out a campaign. I read your let- 
ters to the girls, and they think the whole plan 
is just wonderful if we can carry it out. Won’t 
it cost a lot? And won’t the roads through Vir- 
ginia and Maryland be terribly dusty in summer 
time? Father says we ought to strike down into 
the North Carolina mountains where it’s cooler.” 

‘T don’t know which way is best yet,” Polly re- 
turned happily, her hands deep in her coat 
pockets, chin up to the keen wind from the bay. 
“We’ll have to leave the route for a little while, 
and plan on the money end and the fixing up of 
the car.” 

“What does the Admiral say?” 

“He is not much in favor of it so far, but he 
will be, I know he will. It’s only because he sees 
us girls scooting all over the map with nobody to 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


85 


look after us, don’t you know? But I told him 
we’d have Miss Harmon with us, and the Senator 
will be sure and see that we get a good chaufF eur. 
It will all be done easily when the time comes.” 

“Polly Page, you’re the worst optimist I ever 
knew. Miss Calvert said last term an optimist 
labored under great responsibilities, because he 
might influence people the wrong way just as 
much as a pessimist. You have to be sure things 
are really all right before you go around declar- 
ing they are.” 

“It’s more fun the other way,” Polly retorted 
comfortably. “I’d rather keep saying the sun’s 
bound to shine than everlasting expect to feel 
raindrops on my nose. And the sun always 
looks brightest through a crack, too, did you ever 
notice that?” 

“But can this all be done easily?” 

“Susan, don’t you dare pile up boulders on my 
track. I’m sure we girls can do it, and Miss 
Harmon says we can too. You’ll like her, she’s 
so — oh, I don’t know, like a fresh breeze in your 
face when you’re all tired and fussy, don’t you 
know? She says everything has to be started, 
and it always starts with an idea in somebody’s 
brain, see? We’ve got nearly six months to work 


86 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


for this vacation trip, and I can just shut my eyes 
and see us skimming along the road in a seven- 
passenger car.” 

“Red with gold trimmings, I suppose,” Sue 
put in mischievously. “I’d love a deep maroon 
car, wouldn’t you, Polly?” 

“Grey and silver, I think.” Polly’s big brown 
eyes stared ahead of her as if she beheld the car 
straight in front of them. “Grey and silver, and 
long and low, and kind of scooty looking.” 

“We could call ourselves the scooters, couldn’t 
we? What shall we wear?” 

Polly laughed. 

“That sounds like Isabel, Sue. I hadn’t even 
thought of it.” 

“But we’ll have to think of it,” Sue protested 
sensibly. “We’ll need a lot of new things of 
course, goggles and veils and ‘sich like,’ as Annie 
May says.” 

“We could need them, but we won’t unless we 
can afford them. I want to get all the girls to- 
gether, and figure out just how much we’ll need 
and how to earn the money.” 

“There’s Ruth coming up from the village,” in- 
terrupted Sue suddenly, waving her hand to a 
figure just turning a corner on the hill street. 


GATHERING THE CLAN 87 

• 

“She knows how much we have in the treasury.” 

Ruth was seventeen now, and it was her last 
year at Calvert, but she was still in the club, and 
the girls deferred to the opinion of “Grandma,” 
as they still called her from the old days up at 
Lost Island. She smiled as Polly eagerly un- 
folded her plan, her chin lifted a bit higher than 
usual, her grey eyes keen and interested behind 
her eyeglasses. 

“It’s really splendid, Polly,” she exclaimed 
when she had heard all. “I do hope you can 
carry it through, but don’t count me in this year. 
I went up to the ranch last year with you, and 
mother is a little bit better, so I told her this year 
I would take a summer course in kindergarten 
work and stay with her. Why don’t you take 
Natalie Reid into the club? Have you thought 
of her at all?” 

“She’s a Freshman, but she is full of ideas, and 
a dear. But she’s not a Virginian, is she?” Polly 
stopped short. Natalie was in her first year at 
Calvert, but had won her way into the comrade- 
ship of the old-time pupils easily. She was the 
daughter of a civil engineer, whose work had led 
him to all sorts of strange corners of the earth, 
and in her childhood Natalie had traveled along 


88 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


with the “caravan” as she dubbed the family en- 
tourage. 

Polly loved to sit and hear her tell of queer and 
comical happenings in Egypt and China, Brazil 
and Mexico. She had managed to pick up from 
native nurses funny little phrases in different 
languages, and the girls loved to coax her into re- 
peating them. Or nights where one of the resi- 
dent girls held a feast, Natalie would sit cross- 
legged on a divan like an Indian idol, and tell 
wonder tales while all lights were extinguished 
and only little red punk sticks burned and glowed 
in the darkness. 

“I’ll ask her if she thinks she could go with us,” 
Sue said. “I know she expects to spend her va- 
cation here because her father and mother are 
away over in Samoa or one of the islands out in 
the Pacific. He is building a railroad, I think, 
just draping the track along the mountain sides 
up in the clouds like a flounce on a petticoat. 
I’m sure Nat would love to go with us if she can 
get their consent.” 

“Tell her to come to our meetings anyway,” 
Polly suggested. “I think she can go. How 
much have we in the treasury now, Ruth?” 

“About twenty dollars in dues and sundries.” 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


89 


‘T do admire Ruth as a treasurer,” murmured 
Sue. “She always has some sundries left over, 
and when I was treasurer I never had anything.” 

“Hush yo’ foolin’, chile,” Polly laughed, with 
Welcome’s exact tone and accent. “It is a fair 
start. Senator Yates said we had better have the 
car overhauled first of all, and he would attend to 
that, giving directions, I mean, because we 
wouldn’t even know the right names of the things 
we need changed. I know there is to be a seven- 
passenger body put on for one thing, and it is to 
have an omnibus top, like on the railroad taxis, 
you know, Ruth, so we can put suitcases and 
things up there.” 

“Have you counted hotel expenses, Polly, in 
the estimate for the trip?” Ruth asked. “You 
will have to put up somewhere each night, and 
they charge for storing the car, don’t they?” 

“But think how we’ll economize in other ways,” 
Polly protested. “There will be five of us be- 
sides Miss Harmon, and I know we can manage 
with two rooms with double beds in each — ” 

“All Polly can see is this doubling up,” Sue 
teased. “We’ll be doubling up in everything, I 
know we will. It’s a wonder you haven’t 
thought of using a double decker car, Polly, like 


90 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


the ones in France, and piling some of us up 
there.” 

“Like a little hurricane deck? I think it would 
be lovely, but you’d bump your heads on low 
boughs along the country roads. It would be 
‘Low bridge’ all the way, I guess. Wouldn’t it 
be fun next year to get a houseboat, girls, and 
just jog around with it up and down the coast?” 

“You don’t jog around in a houseboat,” Ruth 
corrected. “You just anchor somewhere and 
stay all summer.” 

“Not in mine,” Polly returned gaily. “I shall 
hoist a sail on my jaunting houseboat, and go 
hither and yon as I list. I wonder why no one 
has thought of putting a sail on a land boat. We 
could put up a sail on our car if the wind hap- 
pened to be in the right quarter, and just skim 
over the country.” 

“Into the nearest fence, Polly, when your 
breeze veers. You’ve got too trusting a nature. 
If you tuck sails on our jaunting automobubble, 
I won’t go along.” 

As she spoke. Sue threw the challenge over her 
shoulder, and ran towards the big stone entrance 
to Calvert Hall, Polly in quick chase after her. 
Rosy and panting for breath, they drew up at 


GATHERING THE CLAN 91 

the side door, and went upstairs to Jean Murray’s 
room. 

“It isn’t ten yet, girls,” Jean protested as she 
admitted the trio. “How are you, Polly. Did 
you have a good time at White Chimneys?” 

“Splendid.” Polly threw her arms around her 
favorite teacher’s neck in one of her swift impul- 
sive bear hugs, and loosened her coat for a stay. 
“I know it’s fearfully early for a call, but school 
begins right away, and we’ve really got only to- 
day to talk everything over and decide. Where’s 
Peggie?” 

“She went to the chapel with Natalie and 
Daphne.” It always seemed odd to the girls 
when anybody gave Crullers her right name. 
Daphne. “They were going to distribute the 
Christmas decorations among the sick, but they 
started directly after breakfast, and will be back 
soon.” 

“Couldn’t I telephone over to Ted, please. Miss 
Murray?” 

Jean nodded her head in smiling assent. 

“Gather the clan, Polly, although I think you 
would be perfectly safe now in saying the vote 
was unanimous for the trip by motor. It is all 
the girls have talked of since you left, and Isabel 


92 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


has all her designs started for the latest styles in 
bonnets, silk dusters, veils, gloves, everything you 
need in equipment.” 

“We might dress Lady Vanitas up just as a 
sample of what we could have done if we had 
wanted to,” said Polly, hopefully. “I think the 
rest of us will go in serge or khaki skirts and 
middy blouses.” 

“Telephone her too, or is she still in Washing- 
ton? I know she said she was going up over 
Sunday with her cousins. She’d vote for the trip 
any way, we know that. I’ll put in a proxy vote 
for her. That’s fair, isn’t it. Miss President?” 
Sue stood at attention beside Polly; but Polly 
only laughed, and ran downstairs to the tele- 
phone in the lower hall to call up Ted. 

As soon as she had arrived, the first meeting of 
the New Year was called to order, although, as 
the president remarked in her opening address, it 
was more like a special session of Congress. 

“But it’s no use putting the question off a day 
longer than we can help, girls. We must strike 
while the iron is hot.” 

“Or our horseshoes won’t bend in the good luck 
curve,” added Ted sotto voce. 

“Well, it’s just this way,” Polly persisted. 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


98 


“The Senator is willing, and Grandfather is will- 
ing, and we can have the car all right. The only 
thing that really bothers me is this. We don’t 
want to travel too far away from home, but I find 
out a car can go a hundred miles a day easily and 
naturally. In a month or six weeks, we could go 
all over the United States at that rate.” 

“We must move gradually like a variable star,” 
said Sue. “Here come Natalie and Crullers. I 
hear their footfalls on the neighboring air.” 

“You mean stair. Sue,” Ted corrected, rising 
to open the door for the newcomers. 

“Oh, is it a meeting?” asked Natalie, a bit wist- 
fully, when she caught sight of all the other girls. 
“Then I’m out of it.” 

“No, you’re not,” cried Polly. “Come right 
in. We’ve just about elected you a member of 
the Club. Girls, will somebody act quickly, 
please, and make Natalie a member, so we can go 
ahead with our business?” 

So with very few words the little stranger at 
the Hall attained to one of its most coveted 
honors, membership in the strictly limited Vaca- 
tion Club. Just then she did not realize what it 
meant, the circle of smiling, welcoming faces 
around her, but before she had removed her hat 


94 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

and jacket. Sue informed her of her unanimous 
election. 

“And can I go with you next summer then?” 
she asked eagerly, pushing back her fluffy, fair 
hair from her face where the wind had blown it 
loose. “I thought I’d have to stay here sure.” 

, “You will become a ‘scooter,’ ” Polly promised 
her solemnly. “Now, then, to business. Any 
questions or suggestions, girls?” 

“What is your plan for earning the money to 
cover the expenses,” Ruth leaned forward to ask, 
a little pad of paper on her knee, and pencil 
ready. 

“Didn’t I write that the Senator thought we 
could do some good scout work for the roads asso- 
ciation? I don’t think it would be haBd. We 
can surely take a map with us, and mark out new 
short cuts that are passable, and blind roads that 
end in a fence rail, and bad fords or good ones, 
anything that is of interest to motorists. I 
thought we could take snapshots of such places, 
and hand in the whole report to the State Roads 
Commission that Senator Yates is Vice-President 
of. There would be some money in it for us any 
way. I don’t know how much, but I think we 
could earn half our expenses that way.” 


GATHERING THE CLAN 


95 


“They wouldn’t pay us a hundred and fifty 
dollars for some kodak pictures, Polly,” said Sue, 
speculatively. 

“No, I know that, but supposing we put in a 
month and a half of steady scouting along roads 
that were unfamiliar, wouldn’t that be worth a 
good deal with all the pictures?” 

“It would cut down your expense account con- 
siderably, Polly,” Miss Murray interposed. 
“And if the pictures came out well, you could 
send sets of them to the motor magazines and local 
newspapers, I should imagine.” 

“Girls,” exclaimed Crullers, sitting holt up- 
right, “I just thought of something perfectly bril- 
liant. You needn’t laugh. Sue, at all, for it is. 
Why not drop a line to all the places where they 
make things for cars and motorists? Just tell 
them we’re going to take this scout trip, and offer 
to advertise their goods all along the line. That 
would give us a full outfit for nothing.” 

“Crullers, precious,” said Ted, putting her arm 
around Crullers’ plump shoulders, “you’re wast- 
ing time at Queen’s Ferry. You should have a 
nice little shiny leather knapsack filled with busi- 
ness cards to distribute as we ride along.” 

“Maybe we could sell something, though,” in- 


96 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


sisted Crullers unbeaten, “as the gypsies do. 
Not tin pans or ponies, but something pretty. 
Post cards of Ted would be nice.” 

She reached the door by degrees, and at the 
finish of her speech just barely dodged Ted's ac- 
curate aim with a cushion. 

“Order,” laughed the president, rapping vig- 
orously with Jean’s paperweight. “Let’s stop 
playing, girls. Somebody make a motion, 
please.” 

So Ruth rose and carefully put the motion that 
the Vacation Club make a tour by motor car the 
following summer, time and route to be decided 
on later. 

“Second the motion,” Natalie said a bit shyly, 
as her first act as a member. The motion was 
carried, and Polly smiled at them all radiantly. 

“We won’t be a bit sorry, girls,” she said. “I 
can see the whole summer ahead of us. Tonight 
I’ll write to Senator Yates, and we had better 
meet every week from now on at our own homes 
in turn, and start the money ball rolling. June 
comes soon.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 

The Senator kept his word faithfully. 

The day of the special meeting Polly wrote him 
fully, telling him of the girls’ action, and for- 
warding a list of questions regarding equipment 
and the best routes to follow. 

Sue hunted up a list of automobile supply 
firms, and the seven pored over the long descrip- 
tions of enticing articles one might buy. Isabel 
had never been so deeply interested as this year. 

‘‘Girls,” she exclaimed, when she had listened 
to all they had planned since her visit at Wash- 
ington, ‘‘just think what darling outfits we can 
have this year, instead of plain khaki suits, or 
sailor ones.” 

“Yes’m,” Polly assented, “and I know, too, 
how much they would cost. We’re going into 
this just like old campaigners should. Middy 
blouses, serge skirts, and coats or sweaters, or if 


98 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


they’re too warm, then the thinnest crash or linen 
skirts we can find.” 

“Linen crushes too easily,” said Isabel, calmly. 
“Get pongee or ratine, something rough and still 
in style. We might just as soon be in style, 
Polly. With soft hemp hats and wide crushy silk 
scarfs around them, it wouldn’t be so bad, tied 
under our ‘bonny wee chins.’ ” 

“Misquoted,” called Ted. Ted always knew 
when anybody misquoted anything. “It’s her 
bonny wee shoe, goosie.” 

“I think it might be wise to take along serge 
coats. It may be cool sometimes,” Polly said. 

“Yes, it may, and then again, ten to one we 
sizzle,” replied Crullers struggling over a motor 
bonnet she was making out of the back of an old 
rose silk pillow cover. She had borrowed a 
round pudding pan from Annie May and had 
succeeded in making a wire frame over it, with a 
fashion magazine laid out in front of her, and the 
picture of a bewitching motor girl before her, 
crowned with this particular bonnet. “Just look 
at this thing. Look at it.” She held it out on 
one hand. “And I think I’ll look just like she 
does when it’s done.” 

“You should have shirred it on the wire before 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 99 

you fastened it to the crown, I think,” Ruth told 
her. 

‘T don’t care. It will make a little handker- 
chief case or a nice Christmas present next winter 
for some of you. Polly, don’t you want it for a 
work bag? I’ll raffle it at a penny a chance.” 

“Crullers,” called Natalie from the door as she 
slipped out to her music lesson, “there’s always 
a breeze when you’re in motion. Tell Polly to 
put you right in front where you’ll be fanned by 
zephyrs.” 

‘T don’t want to be fanned,” Crullers pro- 
tested, placidly. “I just want to be cool nat- 
urally. What time is it, girls? I must be back 
at the Hall by five surely. Miss Calvert said, 
French intransitives.” 

“It’s twenty minutes of five,” Sue replied, 
looking over her shoulder at the tall clock in the 
hall. They had gathered at Polly’s that second 
week, as a ways and means committee. At the 
long oblong mahogany library table Ruth and 
Polly bent their heads over many sheets of paper. 
Sue glanced at them now, speculatively. “Polly, 
have you figured out yet how much we can spend 
on our personal outfits?” 

“Susan,” Polly shook her head decidedly. “The 


100 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


upkeep of the car and how we’re to eat and sleep 
is all weVe got to yet. This trip isn’t just merry 
jaunting. It is full of responsibility. We’ll 
have two cameras, mine and Ted’s, and the Sena- 
tor said to send on the rolls just as soon as they 
were used up.” 

“Miss President,” Ted’s clear voice interposed, 
“I suggest that we mark clearly the personal 
rolls and the professional ones. It would be 
kind of funny for the State Roads Association 
to get a roll of Crullers left behind by accident, 
discovered sleeping on a mossy bank like Ariel, 
or Sue selling trinkets to the natives.” 

“Why don’t you be official photographer, 
Ted,” asked Ruth, leaning her chin on her palm. 
“Your Lost Island films came out better than 
any of the others, and you’ve got a perfect gift 
for composition and lighting effects.” 

“Listen to our dear old adjuster who knows 
just where we belong.” Peggie put her arms 
around Ruth’s neck, and squeezed her. “I wish 
I were going too.” 

“You won’t think anything about us once you 
get back to the ranch, and on your pony,” Polly 
said merrily. “But I do wish you were going all 
the same, and Ruth too. It will seem queer. 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 101 


won’t it, girls, not to have Grandma with us to 
tell us what we ought to do when everything gets 
all topsy-turvey. When do you go, Peg? 
Right after Commencement?” 

Peggie glanced around at them all, with a 
gleam of mischief in her dark eyes. 

“The week after, so we’ll be home in time for 
a good wedding celebration.” 

Polly dropped her pencil instantly, deserting 
the road map she had been following out. 

“Whose wedding. One of the boys?” she 
asked eagerly. Dearly did Polly love weddings 
and christenings, and so far only Annie May 
and Mandy’s daughter at home had given her a 
chance to pin on any bridal veils. 

Peggie shook her head tantalizingly. 

“Guess again. You know them both, oh, so 
well. Jean told me, and I don’t see why all of 
the club shouldn’t know, because Jean — ” 

She stopped at the chorus of exclamations, but 
Polly urged her to go ahead and get it over with, 
and out it came, the great secret that had been 
kept so long so well. 

“Right after we get home Jean is to be mar- 
ried to Dr. Smith.” 

“The blessed old smuggler.” Polly hugged 


102 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


her knees, rocking to and fro joyously. “Girls, 
remember Smugglers’ Cove? I’m so glad he’s 
shaved off his beard like a nice, clean-shaven 
cheery Csesar. Where are they to be married, 
did you say. Peg?” 

“Up home, of course, because mother wants it 
so. Miss Calvert’s going west with us, and the 
doctor too. He’s shipping his car west, and they 
are going to make the trip back east in it on a 
honeymoon tour.” 

“In the car?” exclaimed Sue. “Well, forever- 
more. How things are happening. Remember 
when we first saw the Doctor, girls, and we 
thought he was old, ever so old, and now he’s in 
the forties instead of the sixties. I can see my- 
self growing steadily older. People don’t seem 
nearly so old at thirty or forty as they used to.” 

“Sue’s just turned fifteen, and the pride is 
sticking out all over her,” Ted remarked in a 
casual and dignified fashion. “I’ll be sixteen in 
November. Poor little Susan!” 

“Edwina Pillow — ” began Sue loudly, but Ted 
laughingly begged off. It was hard enough to 
be named after the old General without flaunting 
it in public, she always said, so Sue had her re- 
venge. General Pillow might have been an ex- 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 103 


cellent old dear, Ted said, but after you had been 
nicknamed Feathers and Downy all through a 
troublous childhood, it was time to call a halt. 

“I’m so glad for Miss Jean,” Polly said, 
warmly, “just ever so glad. She loves every- 
thing that is beautiful and artistic in the world, 
and now she can travel and be a regular globe 
trotter. And I really think she likes the Doc- 
tor.” 

The rest laughed at Polly’s serious declara- 
tion, but Peggie seemed to understand what she 
meant. 

“I know. Of course you’re expected to love 
any one if you are going to marry him. That’s 
understood, but if you can like him too, it means 
so much more, as Polly says. Jean has told me 
the Doctor is the most wonderful companion she 
has ever talked with. After they come east in 
the car, they sail for some port in Arabia, and 
travel from there to the valley of the Euphrates, 
hunting buried cities, and cunic writing — is that 
what you call the brick or clay tablets, Ruth?” 

Ruth nodded her head, with a faraway wistful 
look in her eyes. It sounded like some magic 
land of enchantment, some place where dreams 
came true, this talk of Arabia and the Far East. 


104 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Polly tapped the table with her pencil. ‘T 
wish we could go there too, girls, some time.” 

“Polly, if you heard of a pleasure party being 
made up for JNIars, you’d hunt up mileage rates 
and reduced tourists fares.” Ruth rose, smiling 
down at the circle of happy girl faces around the 
Admiral’s desk. “Don’t tease me to stay a 
minute longer. It’s hard enough to break away 
as it is, and the longer I stay and listen the more 
I want to go with you.” 

“Dear old Grandma,” Ted said affectionately 
patting the nearest shoulder to her. “Who will 
take care of us this year?” 

“Miss Harmon will,” Polly declared. “Did 
I tell you, girls, she wrote yesterday to say the 
car was being thoroughly overhauled, and there 
is to be a seven-passenger body put on with the 
railing top?” 

“And seven passengers’ suitcases, and seven 
passengers’ bathing suits and fishing rods,” Sue 
chanted. “How many were going to St. Ives?” 

But Polly laughingly declared she could not 
be discouraged. She enjoyed every talk the 
girls had together. Every meeting seemed to 
bring out a flood of new ideas and good sugges- 
tions. They kept up the enthusiasm too. At 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 105 


home she had won the Admiral over completely 
for when Doctor Smith arrived he had joined 
his arguments and appeals to hers, and verified 
every point Polly had put forward regarding 
the safety of the trip and its possibilities for 
health and pleasure. 

The girls themselves had taken up the money- 
making side of the undertaking energetically. 
The old system of paying in twenty-five cents in 
dues each week had been kept up faithfully since 
the first of September, so there was already quite 
a large nest egg on hand. And now, in the 
weeks that followed New Year’s, they put their 
heads together daily, figuring out new plans for 
having a good “hatch” of the golden eggs. As 
Crullers said, “A canary singing on the perch is 
better as a fireside companion than a nightingale 
in the bush.” 

Directly after the new school term began, they 
had started in with a series of monthly socials. 
Doctor Smith declared it rank piracy and high 
sea tactics, the way unsuspecting guests were 
lured to toothsome suppers and then despoiled. 
Perhaps the most successful of all was the Feb- 
ruary Colonial Dinner given on Washington’s 
Birthday, although it ended with Polly’s losing 


106 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


her dearest and best-loved friend next to the 
Admiral. 

The dinner was given at Glenwood under 
Aunty Welcome’s personal care and supervision, 
and put over thirty dollars into the treasury. 

All of the girls were dressed in the style of the 
costume shown in an old painting of Evelyn Byrd 
that hung in the library at Calvert Hall. It 
must have been one of the beautiful costumes 
she had imported from London-town, Polly said, 
with its puffed overdress and pointed bodice, 
quilted satin petticoat, high heeled satin slippers 
with rosettes, and the exquisite white lawn and 
lace waist under the velvet embroidered bodice. 

It took some figuring to evolve even a copy of 
such a costume, but Jean helped them, and even 
Miss Calvert looked up the historical detail for 
them from rare old books in her library. 

They waited on table with Uncle Peter’s as- 
sistance and with Stoney to carry in the dishes 
from the kitchen. Such serenity of countenance 
as they wore, such quaint and charming dignity 
and poise, Polly explained later, could only come 
as a result of frequent examination of the 
treasurer’s receipts. 

After dinner they all went into the great liv- 





In Stepped a Stately Girlish Figure 




THE COLONIAL DINNER lOT 


ing-room, and there was mystery in the air. The 
Admiral could not be coaxed into divulging any- 
thing. He stood before the tall fireplace, beam- 
ing on the assembly, when all at once there 
stepped into the room a stately girlish figure, 
eyes unwavering in their haughty gaze, lips un- 
smiling. 

Polly stepped forward and took the stranger’s 
hand in hers with a low curtsey. Clad in brown 
she was, her gown fringed and beaded. There 
were little brown moccasins on her feet, and one 
lone eagle feather was slipped behind one ear, 
close in the flat plaits of dark brown hair. 

“How did you ever get her face so brown?” 
whispered Isabel. “She looks like a full-fledged 
Shoshone, doesn’t she? Like old Moon Face.” 

“We welcome you, royal princess and sister, 
to our midst,” said Polly, clearly, her powdered 
head held high. “Daughter of Powhatan, we 
greet thee.” 

The little brown princess smiled and bowed 
her head, all the pride of her race in her bearing. 
All around the long room, and through the wide 
hall and library, she made her triumphal prog- 
ress, escorted by her ladies of honor, and after 
she was seated she held her court right royally. 


108 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Oh, Sue, you were splendid,” Polly ex- 
claimed when it was over. ‘T thought surely 
you’d smile or talk like yourself.” 

“Just wait a minute till I get out of this doe- 
skin roundabout, and I’ll talk fast enough,” 
groaned Sue. “I’ll bet a cookie that Pocahon- 
tas would have given all her old moccasins for a 
middy blouse. Be careful of it, though, Ted. 
It all goes back to Miss Murray. How much 
did we make all told, girls?” 

“Twenty-eight after paying for incidentals.” 
Ruth held up her money bag as she spoke. “It’s 
a good starter, isn’t it?” 

“Fine. I like dinners and suppers because 
you can ask fifty cents each, and it counts up. 
We ought to think up one for March.” Polly 
meditated a minute. “How would a Dickens 
night do? Give a real Dickens dinner. I’ll 
write to Aunt Evelyn in Richmond because she 
knows all the characters from Little Nell to Pip, 
and I know she will help us. We can just have 
the dishes he tells about. Wasn’t there a veal 
and ham pie that somebody liked?” 

“A weal and hammer, Samivel,” corrected 
Ruth, solemnly. “Say, Polly, we could dress 
up in character for that too.” 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 109 


“Why not tell every one to come dressed as 
their favorite Dickens type? It would be ever 
so much more interesting. I know I could coax 
grandfather to be Captain Cuttle.” 

“Dandy,” cried Ted. “Why, there are ever 
so many things to do. In May we can have a 
clam bake down on the shore, and in April a 
spring-time fete on Isabel’s lawn.” 

“A Puritan one with a Maypole dance,” Isa- 
bel added. “I’d love to be Priscilla.” 

“Prissie Alden wasn’t allowed to go to any 
Maypole dances,” Ruth protested. “I’m sur- 
prised at you, Isabel.” 

“Maybe she would have been if she’d lived 
down here in Virginia. I think we could do 
that, but you don’t have Maypoles in April. 
Have an April shower.” Sue paused. “Shower? 
Girls, an inspiration. Let’s make it an April 
shower, and put up booths like at an out-door 
fair, and sell all kinds of little dingbats, and ice 
cream.” 

“Susan, you are a real genius,” Polly declared, 
her eyes sparkling. “Tomorrow I shall send 
away the first payment to the Senator for our 
car’s overhauling, and that will make the summer 
seem near, won’t it? I told Miss Pen we would 


110 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


want all the hide-away places they could give us 
for odds and ends. We can carry one suitcase 
each, and it had better be of Japanese mat- 
ting.” 

“The rain will soak through matting, if you’re 
going to put them up on the top,” said Natalie. 
“Don’t they have little round leather motor 
trunks that fit inside your extra tires?” 

“But we can’t carry seven extra tires.” Polly 
hesitated. “They’ll have to go on top and be 
covered with tarpaulin, or some waterproof ma- 
terial. We must cut down our luggage to the 
very limit, girls. If we were going up to Alaska, 
and had to carry our packs on our back, I guess 
even Lady Vanitas there would leave out a few 
things. Figure on economy of space. That is 
not my phrase. Miss Pen says it. If we carry 
each of us a coat, hat, serge skirt, middy blouses, 
and pongee or linen waists — there, I’ve thought 
of something else.” 

“She’s going to put us all into sleeping bags, 
and cut down hotel expenses,” sighed Isabel. 

“No, I’m not,” Polly laughed back, “but 
listen. It would be hard managing to have our 
laundry done skimming around the country like 
that. Why can’t we ship it home by parcel post. 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 111 


and it can be returned the same way. That 
saves money, and space too.” 

“Done,” Ted announced forcibly. “I hear 
the buzz of the Doctor’s car coming back. He 
took Peggie and Miss Jean up to the Hall, and 
said he’d come back for us. I just thought of 
another thing. You know all the pictures we 
took up at Lost Island? The ranch ones were 
dandy too. Why can’t we print up a lot, stick 
them artistically and daintily on mounts or post- 
cards and sell them at our dinners and festal oc- 
casions to all admiring friends? I know I can 
sell several to each of the choir boys.” 

“Ted!” protested the girls. 

“Well, I can, just the same,” Ted repeated. 
“We’ve helped them out at their choir dinners, 
haven’t we? And didn’t we sing at the summer 
afternoon services the first two weeks in June last 
year while they were camping? When we were 
so busy too, getting ready to go to the ranch. 
Of course they’ll buy our postcards, and so will 
others. Five cents each.” 

“Two for five,” corrected Ruth. “Don’t be 
greedy, Ted.” 

“Not for really truly photographs. Five 
each. Sue and I will do the printing and mount- 


112 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


ing too, and that saves. Miss Murray taught 
us how to make vignettes and all the other fancy 
touches last fall.” 

“I’m going out snooping around with my 
kodak, taking pictures of houses,” said Sue mys- 
teriously. “And when they’re ready. I’ll de- 
scend on the occupants, and say. ‘There you 
are. Five each, please.’ ” 

“I’m going to do mending, girls.” Crullers 
said suddenly. She had been leaning sleepily 
against the porch post, watching the two lights 
on the approaching car. “I put up a sign this 
morning in all three dormitories. ‘J. D. Adams, 
mending neatly done. Slight remuneration.’ ” 

“I wouldn’t make it too slight. Crullers,” 
Polly suggested. “It’s hard mending stockings 
and gloves unless you use a base-ball stitch.” 

“I always do,” Crullers returned, mildly. 
“On my own, of course, but I’ll be careful on 
professional work.” 

“Here’s the Doctor,” called Polly, as the big 
car swung around the corner, and up to the old 
carriage stone. “Good-night, girls. I’ve had 
a splendid time.” 

She stood on the steps waving to the laughing, 
gay-voiced crowd as the girls piled into the car. 


THE COLONIAL DINNER 113 


sitting on each other’s laps, with Crullers pro- 
testing volubly that she was squeezed under un- 
til she couldn’t breathe. 

“Oh, but Crullers, ypu make such a lovely 
cushion,” Ted cried. “Good-night, Polly.” 

Polly watched them until the hum of the car 
died away on the shore road that led down over 
the hill. The Admiral had strolled along to the 
rectory with Mr. Ellis, the rector at Grace 
Church, and Mrs. Ellis. They had always lent 
their support to any movement the girls started 
for the success of their vacation trips. 

r ar out over the little town and masses of trees, 
the moonlight made the bay look like a gleaming 
expanse of quicksilver. The lighthouse on 
Sands Point seemed like a marvelous ruby that 
changed into a diamond as the huge reflectors 
turned. When Polly had been a little girl the 
lighthouse had seemed like some never-failing 
comforter out there in the darkness. Many a 
night she had wakened and reached out her arms 
with a cry for the mother who had left her, and 
when there was no answer, she would creep out 
of bed softly so as not to waken Aunty in the 
next room, kneel by the open window, and look 
over at the Point light for solace. 


114 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Tonight it gave her the same curious sense of 
companionship. She was standing watching it 
when she heard Mandy’s voice at the door. 
“Mis’ Polly, honey?” 

“In just a minute, Mandy.” 

“Better come along now. It — it’s Welcome.” 
The tears were rolling fast down Mandy’s face. 
“She’s took all oh a sudden. Peter and me we 
done got her on a couch in de back room, and 
Pete’s run for Doctor Cable. We didn’t want 
to spoil yo’ party nowhow — ” 

She did not have time to finish. Polly had 
passed her and was fairly flying down the hall to 
where Welcome had been laid. 


CHAPTER IX 
AUNT Evelyn’s coming 

It always seemed like a dream to Polly, that 
passing out into the life eternal of the wonderful 
old mammy who had cared for her since her birth 
with unfailing tenderness. For so many, many 
years. Welcome had been the very prop and stay 
of the Glenwood household. 

In the Admiral’s boyhood he could remember 
Welcome as his mother’s sprightly young maid, 
and later she had been mammy in turn to each of 
the children of “Young Massa,” and last of all 
to Polly. Polly had never known how old 
Aunty was, but later, when the old records were 
hunted up, it was found she had passed her 
seventy-sixth milestone. 

Once during the waiting hours of the long 
night the tired old eyes opened drowsily and 
looked into Polly’s face. 

“Light up all de tapers, chile,” she whispered. 
“Behold, de bridegroom cometh!” 


116 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Aunty, dear, dear Aunty, here’s your Polly, 
don’t you know me?” 

Polly knelt beside the bed, her face wet with 
tears, her strong young hands holding fast to 
those wrinkled brown ones that had so faithfully 
cared for her all her life. But they only pressed 
hers ever so slightly, and a little smile of con- 
tentment rested on the closed lips as Welcome’s 
soul went out into the dawn of the new day. 

“Don’t you weep, li’l missie,” old Uncle Peter 
knelt down beside Polly and took her hands 
gently. “You must be strong now, and do all 
she tol’ yo’ to, honey, an’ comfort our hearts. 
Doan’t yo’ cry.” 

But Mandy swept her up in her arms as 
though she had been five instead of fifteen, and 
left the Admiral standing in the room beside the 
bed. 

“Cry all yo’ want to. Mis’ Polly,” she insisted, 
when she put her to bed. “What yo’ s’pose men 
. folks know ’bout our tears? Dey come from de 
wellsprings oh de heart, and de more yo’ let ’em 
loose, de better yo’ gwine to feel. Doan’t yo’ 
go ter mo’rnin’ too much, though. Jes’ look 
hyar.” She pulled back the curtains to let the 
morning sunlight stream in. Down beyond the 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 117 


trees the bay sparkled. “See dat glory a-pourin’ 
down? Somewhere up yonder, honey, Wel- 
come’s a-wingin’ her way up, an’ mebbe Mis’ 
Car’line, an’ Mis’ Mary, yo’ lady Ma, an’ young 
Marse Phil is all a-troopin’ down to meet Wel- 
come. Ain’t dat a heavenly thought? Den 
you quiet down an’ go ’long ter sleep.” 

But in spite of Mandy’s comforting it was 
many weeks before Polly could get used to Glen- 
wood without Aunty Welcome’s familiar figure. 
She went about quietly, eyes wistful and sad, 
and all of Mandy’s tidbits and dainties could not 
coax her back to her old gayety. New responsi- 
bilities had fallen on her shoulders too. Wel- 
come had always made a child of her, in spite of 
her admonitions and scoldings. Now, Mandy 
would come to her every morning as the real 
little mistress of Glenwood, for the day’s or- 
ders. 

After the first few weeks, Polly settled on a 
plan. Straight down to the kitchen she went, 
her face radiant. 

“Mandy, I’ve thought up a plan. Now, 
listen. You’ve been cook here at Glenwood for 
twenty years and more, haven’t you?” 

“Twenty-six years, four months, and five days 


118 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


last Monday, Mis’ Polly,” Mandy rattled off 
easily. “Ah distinctly remember the day, ’case 
it was de Monday after Easter — ” 

“But, Mandy,” Polly interrupted, per- 
plexedly, “Easter’s a movable feast. You 
mustn’t count by that.” 

“It comes once a year, doan’t it? Ain’t any 
better day to count by, is dere? Dat’s when Ah 
come here, an’ Ah was Peter’s li’l bride.” 

Mandy shook all over with laughter for now 
she weighed well up to two hundred, and Polly 
had to laugh with her. 

“Well, what I came down for is this. Of 
course you know everything about what we like 
best and what we have for dinner. How would 
it do for you to go ahead, and cook what you 
think best, and Lucy Lee can do the upstairs 
work and wait on table.” 

“Not Lucy Lee, Mis’ Polly. De Admiral, he 
alius wants Peter behind his chair, and Stoney’s 
in trainin’ for it later.” Mandy held firmly to 
the old law of promotion in the household. 
“Lucy Lee’s all right for dustin’ an’ makin’ beds 
and she kin sweep some too if she sets her mind 
dat way, but she ain’t got de style. Mis’ Polly, 
yo’ understand me, de style for waitin’ on table, 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 119 


even if she is mah daughter. She takes after me, 
and Stoney he takes after his daddy. Ah kin 
fry chicken for kings an’ emperors, but Ah neber 
could lay a table cloth straight an’ fashionable. 
Peter and Stoney take to it jes’ like flies to 
’lasses.” 

Polly went back upstairs smiling, but she felt 
that the situation called for consultation with the 
Admiral. He listened patiently, Polly sitting 
on the broad arm of his chair, one hand ruffling 
up his grey curly forelock the way she always 
loved to do. 

“You see, grandfather dear, nobody, not even 
you, knows how I miss Aunty Welcome. I keep 
wondering how you will get on this summer while 
I am away. Mandy is kind and good-hearted, 
but she hasn’t direction like Welcome had. I’m 
wondering honestly whether I am old enough to 
take the head of things here. Do you think I 
am?” 

The Admiral looked up at the face bending 
over him. He noted the brown hair, parted a 
trifle on one side, and swept back with a loose 
curly wave, the wide dark eyes that Ted always 
insisted were just like those of a curious squirrel 
only for the little droop at the corners that be- 


120 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


tokened mirth, the eager pointed chin, the lips 
ever ready to smile or laugh. 

‘T think,” said the Admiral, thoughtfully, 
“that I had better write to your Aunt Evelyn 
at Richmond, and ask her to make her home with 
us until you are fairly grown. How would you 
like that, Polly?” 

Polly did not answer, but gazed down at the 
two logs, the big back one that had burned all 
night long and still held its shape, and the 
crackling new one Stoney had just put on. 

She had four aunts. There was Aunt Milly 
who had given Lost Island over to the girls for 
their first outing, but she had her own family and 
lived in Boston. 

Next came Faith. Polly loved her Aunt 
Faith. She was slim and tall, and always 
low-voiced and restful. Ever since Polly could 
remember, once a year in the late fall when 
the last leaves clung to the bare boughs like 
flecks of gold. Aunt Faith would come to 
Glenwood for a few days. She always wore 
gowns of grey or violet. Welcome had told 
Polly how, long ago. Miss Faith had been 
“crossed” in love. Polly never asked questions 
but she would slip her hand into the cool satiny 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 121 


palm, and go down to the little riverside burial 
ground of Glenwood. Faith would sit by one 
grave quietly, straightening out the tangled 
myrtle that covered it thickly, tending the plants 
that held their own until the first frosts. 

Evenings after dinner, when the Admiral went 
out to doze a while on the terrace at the rose seat, 
Faith would sit at the old sweet-toned piano and 
play all of Polly’s favorite tunes over and over. 
Polly loved her voice, a low, vibrant contralto 
that made one think of the ’cello’s notes. 

“Oh, I wish I could have Aunt Faith, grand- 
father dear. Don’t you think she would come?” 

“Yes, perhaps she would,” the Admiral re- 
sponded heartily, “but would it be fair to Faith 
to ask her to guide a sky rocket safely? She 
takes life very seriously, matey, and has always 
lived a sheltered, self-centered sort of existence. 
You need a woman like your Aunt Evelyn who 
is cheery and modern and can safely steer a cer- 
tain craft into the safe harbor of young woman- 
hood, eh?” 

“I wonder if Aunt Evelyn ever believed in 
fairies,” Polly said, thoughtfully. “She never 
seems to dip into any of the things that girls like, 
you know. Grandfather.” 


122 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“You’re too old to believe in fairies.” He 
pinched the ear nearest to him. 

“I don’t mean that I do. I just mean all the 
things that go along with belief in fairies. Aunt 
Faith is such a dear. Of course, ‘loyally,’ I love 
Aunt Evelyn too, but some way you can get 
nearer to Aunt Faith.” 

“Better that Evelyn comes,” the Admiral said 
firmly. “It would be too great a charge to place 
on Faith, and she is not strong. I will write to 
Richmond today.” 

It was almost the first time he had ever ob- 
jected to anything she had wanted greatly, and 
Polly pondered over it, but said nothing. Prob- 
ably it was selfish of her to want the aunt who 
was dearest to her, when Aunt Evelyn could take 
more of the responsibility off the Admiral’s 
shoulders. 

So in March there came a new influence into 
the home circle at Glenwood, and after the first 
strangeness wore off, Polly noted a distinct feel- 
ing of relief. 

Mrs. Langdon was a widow, and the youngest 
daughter of the Admiral. She was only thirty- 
four, and very much like Polly’s grandmother. 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 123 


the gracious “Mis’ Car’line” whom Uncle Peter 
loved to tell about. 

“Peter says when she come soft-footed along 
de garden walks early in de mo’nin’,” Mandy 
would say admiringly, “he lifts up his head, and 
hears her skirts trailin’ over de flowers, swish, 
swish, swish, and he mos’ thinks it’s thirty years 
ago, and Ole Missus walking ’round lookin’ at 
her posies.” 

The first evening after her arrival Polly sat 
beside her in the large west chamber that had 
been hers when she was a girl. In a way, Polly 
was testing the future basis of companionship, 
trying to discover whether Aunt Evelyn would 
be “one of the girls,” or whether she was totally 
grown up. So she rambled on, talking of the 
summer plans, and of the previous vacation trips. 

Mrs. Langdon leaned a trifle forward in the 
deep, high backed arm-chair. All of the fur- 
niture in this room was covered with apple green 
chintz scattered over with apple blossom sprays. 
There were tall slender candlesticks on the high 
white mantel, and quaint paintings in oval gold 
frames. One of them was of Polly’s father lead- 
ing a young girl down a flight of winding stairs. 


124 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


He wore an old fashioned high waisted coat, with 
broad lapels, and a high stock. His curly hair 
was tufted in the center, and brushed forward 
from his ears into curls. He was smiling up at 
the girl with the white dress, a dress of many 
flounces, little clusters of rosebuds holding them 
in place. Her hair was dressed in curls that 
flowed down over her shoulders, and her little feet 
were encased in black slippers with ‘'crossties” 
over white stockings. 

“That was my very first fancy dress party,” 
Aunt Evelyn remarked, tenderly, as she saw 
Polly looking at the picture. “Your father es- 
corted me, and we both wore our grandparents’ 
costumes. In about two years more, Polly, you 
will be going to little informal evening affairs too 
with your young girl friends. It will seem 
strange to have our youngest growing up.” 

Something in her voice and manner opened up 
the wellsprings of Polly’s confidence, and before 
she realized it, she was telling all about the diff er- 
ent girls at the Hall, and all the intimate little 
stories of the happy times they had there. Aunt 
Evelyn liked the idea of the club. 

“It unites you girls by a spirit of fellowship 
and friendship that is very beautiful. And 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 125 


working as you do for the summer trips, it brings 
out self-reliance and co-operation. I will gladly 
do all I can to help you,” she promised. ‘T think 
I can suggest several new entertainments to help 
you add to the nest egg.” 

One day the second week in March Sue came 
over very importantly. It was almost the first 
breath of real spring weather after the February 
thaw. 

“Polly,” she announced, sitting on the extreme 
edge of the broad davenport in the little study 
that was Polly’s downstairs den, “I have hired 
out as assistant gardener after school hours. I 
don’t see why we haven’t thought of it before. 
You know old Mrs. Warren? I am to clean up 
her front garden and the rose garden at the back, 
and trim off dead branches and twigs from the 
raspberry and blackberry canes, and look the 
grape vines over, and clip off any dead tendrils 
on them. Ted’s going to help me, and when I * 
am fairly started she is to do the rectory hedge. 
Now, Polly, you needn’t look incredulous, for 
Mr. Ellis said so himself. It is only a matter of 
keeping your eye and hand steady and true. W e 
are going to visit every house up here on the hill 
and find other places to clean up. Of course we 


125 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


are not real gardeners. We do not pretend to 
plant or plough. We just clean up after the 
winter, and prune and clip.” 

‘T think it’s a splendid idea, Sue,” protested 
Polly, admiringly. ‘T wonder how you ever 
thought it up. Uncle Peter’s getting old and has 
‘kinks’ as he calls his rheumatism, and I know 
that grandfather would be glad to have you clean 
up our lawn and garden too. Let’s ask him 
now.” 

The two invaded the Admiral’s precincts at 
once. He was peaceably reading, but Sue won 
his promise of steady employment until the 
grounds were clear of all winter rubbish and dead 
leaves and twigs. Also the hedge was to be care- 
fully clipped, and though during the ensuing 
days old Uncle Peter shook his head and chuckled 
over his two eager assistants, still Sue and Ted 
worked faithfully adding their garden “spoils,” 
as Ted called the earnings, to the general treas- 
ury. 

Natalie had said she would be official candy- 
maker. 

“It’s the only thing I can do, girls, you know,” 
she explained cheerfully, “and there is a large 
profit in it. All the day girls up at school will 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 127 


buy and so will the residents. I can sell candy 
at every entertainment we have, besides canvass- 
ing the highways and byways for sweet tooths. 
What is Doctor Smith’s favorite candy, Polly, 
do you know?” 

“Marmalade,” interjected Crullers. “He had 
dozens of jars of it at Lost Island.” 

“That’s not candy, that’s a preserve,” Peggie 
protested. “I know what he likes best. Pre- 
served ginger and candied orange peel.” 

Polly shivered laughingly. 

“It sounds like cavemen’s food, table delicacies 
for mastodon pot roast. Never mind, he shall 
have it, girls. Nat, make up pounds of candied 
orange peel and preserved ginger for the Doctor, 
and we’ll coax him to buy a whole summer’s 
supply.” 

“Miss Calvert likes thin pink peppermints and 
small lemon drops. She carries them in a little 
comfit box in her handbag,” Isabel told them. 
“And Miss Murray always watches for old 
Mammy Linda who sits on the church steps week 
days, and sells cocoanut pralines. We can make 
her those. I’ll help if you’ll let me, Natalie, for 
I seem so helpless among all you girls who find 
things to do.” 


128 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Even from day to day new ideas and plans 
were constantly cropping up to swell the rapidly 
growing fund in Ruth’s desk. But Hallie suc- 
ceeded in getting her share in her own way. She 
skirmished around amongst the hill residents of 
Queen’s Ferry until she had thirty mail cus- 
tomers. It was nearly a mile to the village where 
the post office was, and by rising early she could 
make the trip on her bicycle, get the morning 
mail, and distribute it before class hours. 

“Well, Hallie Yates, you say you’re neither 
talented nor beautiful,” Crullers said in her 
comically direct way, the first time Hallie laid 
her earnings down on the table before the girls, 
“but you’re a business girl. Seven dollars and 
fifty cents! How much do you charge for run- 
ning around on that bicycle?” 

“Twenty-five cents a week each, and I have 
thirty customers,” answered Hallie gaily. “I’ve 
been late for school three times, but I got my les- 
sons the night before and made perfect recita- 
tions, and when I explained that I had missed 
part of the morning study hour. Miss Calvert said 
it was all right, so long as I made it up the night 
before, and was perfect.” 

One day the Admiral surprised the girls as 


AUNT EVELYN’S COMING 129 


they sat in solemn conclave at Glenwood on the 
wide vine-covered veranda. The climbing rose 
and honeysuckle vines were just beginning to 
bud, and already the bees were around prospect- 
ing for the future golden store. 

‘‘The Senator writes me that Miss Harmon is 
now a member of the American Automobile As- 
sociation. You may carry their pennant on your 
car then, children, and it will be the best help pos- 
sible to you. It entitles you to club privileges 
along the road, information and assistance in case 
of a breakdown. Miss Pen has written to them 
for their list of hotels and garages with rates, and 
ferry rates also at different points, so you will be 
all right.” 

“Until we strike the unknown trails,” Polly 
put in. “But I feel, grandfather dear, as though 
the Association did not really approve of our 
undertaking, for when I wrote and told them all 
that we wanted to do, they wrote back and told 
me it couldn’t be done in such an unsettled 
country, better come up north and try, or go over 
into Kentucky. We’ll fly their pennant, but put 
our own on the right hand side.” 

“Polly, don’t be inhospitable, even in pen- 
nants,” Ruth reproved. “You may need their 


130 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


help, and perhaps they were perfectly right. I 
do think myself it’s awfully risky for you girls to 
go out into these uncharted roads, as it were. 
But it’s started now.” 

“Oh, and by the way, this may also interest 
you,” the Admiral looked down at the circle of 
eager girl faces with twinkling eyes. “The Sen- 
ator mentioned that I might tell you your car 
was about ready.” 

There was a tense, expectant hush, an audible 
drawing in of breath from Crullers’s corner, and 
Polly’s joyous gasp of surprise. Flushed and 
smiling she stood up at the head of the table. 

“Girls, isn’t it splendid to think that things 
really come true if you believe they will and keep 
working for them to?” she cried enthusiastically. 
“We’ll be riding down the turnpike by June 
twentieth!” 


CHAPTER X 


THE START OF THE “sCOOTERS.” 

During May, Aunt Evelyn suggested flower 
picnics as a diversion after the dinners and cos- 
tume suppers of the winter. Nearly every week 
the flower calendar changed in the woodlands 
around Queen’s Ferry. 

Ted’s two brothers were pressed into service, 
and drove the supply wagon to the different 
camps chosen by the girls. 

The refreshment tents were red and yellow, 
and were under the supervision of Crullers, with 
Hallie and Peggie as assistants. Ruth was 
cashier in a little tent surmounted by the club 
pennant. Ted managed the games, the flower 
gathering, and the awarding of prizes, with Isa- 
bel and Natalie to help, and over all was Polly — 
here, there, and everywhere, making things run 
smoothly. 

One Saturday they went far down the bay 
shore and held a clam bake with the Doctor as 


132 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


master of ceremonies. Fifty cents each was the 
charge, and Ruth’s face was wreathed in con- 
tented smiles when they made the return trip. 
Nearly all of the club’s faithful admirers and 
constituents had responded and the treasury was 
in an excellent condition. 

‘‘Girls,” Polly said the following day, “it’s al- 
most June, and Commencement Day looms ahead 
of us. I really think we surpass our own records 
each year.” 

Crullers sat up straight with a fervent cheer. 

“’Ray! ’Ray!” 

“Jane Daphne Adams, hush yourself,” pro- 
tested Ted, using Annie May’s favorite admoni- 
tion. “Don’t you know what it means when the 
spirit of oratory lights on our president’s left 
shoulder?” 

Polly joined in the laugh. 

“I don’t know whether it’s the spirit of oratory 
or not, but it moveth me in sundry places to arise 
and shine. Commencement Week will be here 
and gone before we know it. And Senator 
Yates and Mrs. Yates, and Miss Harmon 
are coming to see Hallie make her first Fresh- 
man bow. Don’t you blush so, Hallie,” sym- 
pathetically. “We’ve all been through it. But 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS’’ 133 


the great good news is this. The Senator will 
bring our car up with him, and return to We- 
noka by rail. Isn’t that dear of him?” 

Isabel rose. She was always the first to rise 
on a point of courtesy. 

“Madam President, I move that we pass a vote 
of thanks to Senator Yates.” 

“Second the motion,” flashed Ted quickly. 
The motion was carried with a ring of enthusiasm 
in every voice. Sue said she would write and tell 
the Senator at once. 

“So we will see our ‘scooter’ pretty soon,” con- 
tinued Polly. “I don’t know yet what the bill 
is, girls, but Miss Pen says it is a beauty. All 
home comforts, and side pockets. And Mrs. 
Yates has given us the handiest thing, just what 
we have talked of — a small single fireless cooker. 
It’s encased in leather, and takes up hardly any 
room. We can stop the car, hop out, start up a 
gypsy fire with a pot hung on three sticks, get our 
dinner to boiling point, pop it in the cooker, and 
ride on.” 

“Who will be the fireless cook?” asked Nat- 
alie. “It sounds delicious, and I’m hungry 
now.” 

“I know a plan, girls,” Ruth proposed soberly, 


134 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


but with fun in her eyes. “Let Polly start in as^ 
fireless cook, and the first one who finds fault with 
her cooking has to take her place.” 

“No fair,” laughed Polly, shaking her head. 
“I know you’d never dare to complain. Miss 
Pen will oversee it anyway, and we can all help 
her. Now here’s another last point to consider. 
We have plenty in the treasury, besides what we 
will earn. Don’t you think we ought to buy a 
wedding present for Miss Murray and the Doc- 
tor?” 

Crullers rose with immediate zeal. 

“I move that we buy a chime clock or a chest 
of silver.” 

“Won’t they be handy on a motor trip to Wy- 
oming,” chuckled Ted. Sue scratched her nose 
with her pencil thoughtfully. 

“Don’t you think we ought to buy something 
portable?” 

“They have a dandy camera.” 

“I don’t mean that they can carry on their 
backs, Ted — ” 

“Susan, remember your French,” warned Ted, 
soberly, “Porter, to carry. Je porte, tu portes, il 
porte, nous portons — 

Polly rapped for order. 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 135 


“She said portable, Madam President — ” be- 
gan Ted. 

“Oh, be good, Ted,” pleaded Ruth. “You’re 
too distracting. Polly, how would it do to ask 
your aunt?” 

“Splendid. Aunt Evelyn could give us any 
kind of advice and love to, I know. She’ll know 
just the right thing for us to buy. And that 
makes me think. Next Saturday morning at 
ten, everybody must come to be fitted. Little 
Miss Reid is coming up from the village, and we 
are all to be measured for our skirts and middy 
blouses, white for Sundays, tan for everyday, and 
trimmed in bands of red or blue according to taste 
and complexion, as Miss Reid said. Then we 
are to have three-quarter length coats of light 
weight blanket cloth for the chilly nights.” 

“Oh, will there be any chilly nights, Polly?” 
asked Crullers anxiously. “Won’t that be 
lovely 1” 

“Of course there will when we get into the 
mountain region. You can choose your own 
colors for the cloaks, girls. Mine is red.” 

“Danger signal for motorists,” Ted said 
gently. “I shall take a very discreet navy blue.” 

“And I think, if all goes well, we can leave 


136 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


here the twentieth of June,” Polly went on. 
“We will receive general directions from the road 
committee, — suggestions, as the Senator puts it, 
for he says if we see any likely sidelines we feel 
like exploring and marking down on the map, we 
may follow them in our scouting. Any way, we 
are to rally the morning of the twentieth, girls.” 

Commencement Week passed swiftly. There 
were so many events happening at this time that 
the girls overlooked their own club affairs, and 
threw themselves heart and soul into the school 
spirit. 

“Aunt Evelyn,” Polly exclaimed after her class 
luncheon, “I think I have never enjoyed Com- 
mencement Week so much as this time. You 
have j ust made every day happy f or us. And to- 
night there is the Senior dance. We have had 
only two Seniors from our club, Kate Julian a 
year ago, and now dear old Ruth. You know 
we call them Seniors and Freshmen and the rest, 
although we are really only a ‘prep’ school. Lots 
of Calvert girls go on to real college though.” 

“Would you like to, Polly?” asked Aunt Eve- 
lyn, smiling at the flushed, eager face. Polly 
loved to take a certain stool she had had for years, 
and sit on it squarely in front of Mrs. Langdon’s 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 137 


desk, hugging her own knees, and rocking to and 
fro as she talked. 

“I’m not so sure yet. Aunt Evelyn. You see 
Grandfather and I have always planned some- 
thing, oh, for years, and I Ve looked forward to it 
so. He promised me that some day when the 
school days were over, we would both of us go 
away on a long trip, just a drifting trip, to places 
that I want to see. Grandfather said of course 
somebody would be with me besides himself, 
somebody like Miss Murray or Miss Harmon, 
who could help me learn about things. And in- 
stead of starting from this coast, I always 
planned to go the opposite way, follow the sun I 
mean. I should like to chase summer for a whole 
year.” 

“Well, you have a whole year and a half to 
plan in, and if the Admiral approves, it might 
come true. Wouldn’t you like to take the girls 
with you?” 

“Every one of them,” said Polly emphatically. 
“I wish I could have the Senator’s yacht and 
cruise everywhere. But it’s half the fun plan- 
ning, isn’t it?” 

The closing function at Calvert was always the 
reception the last evening, when Miss Honoria 


138 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


herself received in state at the foot of the great 
staircase. There were resident girls and their 
friends and relatives, day girls and their friends 
and relatives, and, lastly, former Calvert girls, 
now grown up and married, who enjoyed coming 
back on the final evening of the year to meet Miss 
Calvert, and feel the old time school spirit fold 
them all in a common bond. 

‘T’m so sorry to leave it all, girls,” Ruth said 
as the old group closed in around her with inter- 
lacing arms, and bore her away to a quiet corner 
out in the great hall. “WeVe had such good 
times, haven’t we? Won’t you make me an asso- 
ciate member for life?” 

“Dear old Grandma,” Ted exclaimed, hugging 
her without regard for ruffles. “You may have 
anything you like. Y ou’ve scolded me regularly, 
and disregarded all my little airy flights of tem- 
perament — you call it that, don’t you? — ^but I 
think the world of you, and forgive you freely. 
Sue do you forgive her too?” 

“Go away, both of you,” Ruth laughed. “Y ou 
are a couple of teasers. Where is Polly?” 

“Don’t you see her standing by the piano talk- 
ing to the Senator?” Isabel answered. “She has 
kept him backed up against that spot for ten 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 139 


minutes, and I know she’s asking questions.” 

“About the trip,” Ruth smiled a bit wistfully. 
“I do wish I could go with you all. Write good 
long letters when you have a chance, any way. 
You don’t know how lonely it will be here with- 
out you.” 

Polly came toward them, smiling, after leaving 
the Senator with Miss Calvert. 

“Girls, we’ve got our chauffeur at last, the 
‘land captain,’ as Grandfather called him. His 
name is Patchin, Columbus Patchin. We won’t 
go astray with that name to guide us, will we? 
Don’t all ask questions at once,” laughing as they 
began to talk all at the same instant, “he is one 
of the road association’s most reliable men, and 
is warranted not to do anything to run us into 
disaster. The Senator says he has worked for 
him in Washington, and he knows he is perfectly 
trustworthy and a dandy machinist. We’re to 
make our start from here Monday morning at 
seven. Miss Pen says we will do best traveling 
early in the morning and in the late afternoon 
when it is cooler. We won’t mind, girls, will 
we, for that is the best time of the day any 
way.” 

“Is the machine here yet, Polly?” asked Nat- 


140 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


alie. ‘‘Right here in Queen’s Ferry this min- 
ute?” 

“Yes, right over in our stable. Mr. Patchin is 
there too. They made the trip in it from We- 
noka, and Mrs. Yates and the Senator are visiting 
at the rectory tonight. After that they will be 
at Glenwood until we leave. Come over in the 
morning, and we’ll have a splendid time looking 
the machine over.” 

It was a very dignified group that advanced on 
Glenwood the next morning to inspect the new 
treasure. Polly led the way to the old ivy-cov- 
ered stone stable where Uncle Peter and Balaam, 
the coachman, watched Mr. Patchin testing dif- 
ferent parts of his car. 

There it stood at last, the complete realization 
of all their winter dreams. It was a large body, 
seven-passenger, and seemed to monopolize all 
the available space in the old stable. 

Mr. Patchin turned around when he heard their 
voices, and raised his leather cap. 

“I’m Patchin, young ladies, and this is the 
machine. There ain’t a car on the road her 
equal. She climbs a hill like a two-year-old.” 

“Isn’t he funny?” whispered Crullers, staring 
with all her might at the short, stocky figure of 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 141 


Mr. Patchin. He was in a blue and white 
jumper and overalls, and both fit him tightly. 
“He looks exactly as though he had been stuffed 
into them like the rag dolls we made Christmas 
for the kiddies up on the ranch.” 

Polly and Isabel were coaxing Mr. Patchin to 
“take her bonnet off.” Not a word did he say, 
merely smiled at them. They found out later 
that was his chief characteristic, his everlasting 
smiling silence. 

“He is like a cheerful big-eyed baby,” Ted re- 
marked thoughtfully, when he crawled under the 
machine to explain something to the others. 
“His eyebrows and lashes are ever so much lighter 
in color than his face, and that is tanned and 
rather pink. And he hardly ever winks his eyes, 
do you notice that. Sue?” 

“Uncle says he’s a perfect jewel,” Hallie told 
them. “And you ought to hear Cousin Pen put 
him through his paces. He says she knows more 
about a machine than most men do.” 

“I do like the color of the car, girls,” said Polly 
emphatically, “Don’t you? It’s such a rich tone. 
Before it was overhauled, it was a deep olive, but 
I thought maroon with silver trimmings would 
be more effective. And we can pile our suitcases 


142 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


on that top place. There’s a sort of net that goes 
over them and fastens to the side supports, and 
we’ve got a rubber cover for rainy days, or an 
oiled one, I forget which it is. Let’s look inside.” 

The interior was upholstered in buif canvas 
for summer travel. There were plenty of side 
pockets for which Polly had yearned, and in the 
corners tall narrow mirrors were set obliquely. 

Along the running-boards were two long nar- 
row leather compartments that could be taken off 
and on. At the back were the extra tires, and 
snug round leather trunk boxes set neatly into 
the centers of these. 

On the radiator in front was the brass emblem 
of the A. A. A. Fastened at one side on a little 
staff of brass, was the pennant of the Association 
also, with its two wheels and triple A’s. 

Besides the deep compartments on each of the 
doors for various odds and ends, there were also 
capacious pockets with buttoned flaps at unex- 
pected places in the car interior. The girls ex- 
plored each of these, and found several evidences 
of Mrs. Yates’s thoughtfulness. There was a 
tiny alcohol tea kit, with aluminum cups in Chi- 
nese shape, set into each other. In another 
pocket Polly found six wash-up kits, each in its 


STARTj OF THE “SCOOTERS” 143 


black leather case, only six inches long. Inside 
was a folding rubber bowl, soap, towel and wash 
cloth. 

“Girls, just look here,” she cried, happily. 
“Isn’t it dear of Mrs. Yates to do this for us? 
Just the kind of things we need.” 

Everything about the machine was of interest 
to them, but the machinery seemed one great 
tangled problem, fascinating but mysterious. It 
was the “little handy things,” as Sue said, that 
they liked best, and the big roomy tonneau. Mr. 
Patchin explained everything carefully. He 
took off “her bonnet,” as he told them it was 
dubbed, and explained all about spark plugs, car- 
buretor, radiator, connecting rod, brake bands — 

“Oh, please wait a minute,” laughed Polly. 
“We’ll never remember them all. What’s this 
thing?” 

“Ammeter for testing dry cells.” 

“Look out, Crullers. Polly will be testing 
your brain cells with it,” teased Ted. 

“Mr. Patchin, what’s an eight-inch clearance?” 
asked Crullers, curiously. “I heard Doctor 
Smith say his car had an eight-inch clearance, and 
I hoped ours would too, but I don’t see one any- 
where.” 


144 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“It’s the foot brake, Crullers,” Sue told her 
gravely. “And you work the sprags with it to 
keep in the middle of the road when the moon is 
full.” 

“Put the muffler on her,” Ted suggested very 
loftily, having just had the muffler explained to 
her. “The clearance is the distance under your 
car, goose, from the road bed, so you won’t go 
bumping merrily along over thank-you-ma’ams. 
We’ve got a high clearance on our car, Mr. 
Patchin says, because some of the roads we’ll 
strike have grassy ridges in the middle of them 
where they haven’t been used much in country 
places.” 

“Out so early, chicks?” called a gay voice be- 
hind them, and Miss Harmon stood there, smil- 
ing at the picture they made around the machine. 
“Have you learned all the names of things yet?” 

“Almost,” Polly replied. “It’s a darling car. 
Miss Pen, and we’re so proud of it. I can hardly 
wait to start.” 

For nearly an hour Mr. Patchin held court 
over the new treasure, and by the time luncheon 
was served, the girls felt as if they might have dis- 
pensed with his services, thrown in the clutch, and 
taken to the open road. 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 145 


He was always Mr. Patchin to them during the 
next five weeks, although Miss Pen called him 
Patchin in the Continental fashion, as she ex- 
plained. Polly called him Columbus sometimes, 
but in a spirit of veneration. He was Columbus 
the explorer, Columbus, the intrepid adventurer 
whom no road daunted, no grassy lane appalled, 
no mountain baffled. 

“He’s funny looking and he has three dis- 
tinct double chins,” said Ted firmly, “but he 
has my undying respect. He never loses 
his temper, and he never seems to mind any- 
thing, us least of all. Why, we don’t bother 
him any more than if we were a lot of grass- 
hoppers.” 

Sunday they went up to the Hall in a body to 
say good-bye to Miss Calvert and the Murray 
girls. Their wedding present to Jean was an 
odd one, but very appropriate. With the help of 
Mrs. Langdon, they had chosen the handsomest 
saddle and bridle they could get for fifty dollars, 
and many of the other girls who were not in the 
club had contributed also, loving J ean as they all 
did. 

Her eyes filled with tears when Stoney lugged 
in the gift valiantly, and laid it before her. It 


146 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


was beautifully embossed, with silver mountings, 
and her monogram on the bridle. 

“Girls, I shall think of you all every time I ride 
now, and thank you so very, very much for your 
dear gift. We have taken a ranch near the Ala- 
meda, and will spend part of each year up there, 
so you see how often I shall use this.” 

By Monday morning the last farewells had 
been said all around Queen’s Ferry. Ruth at the 
final meeting, held on Saturday, had turned over 
her office of treasurer to Isabel, and the two had 
gone down to the rectory to see the Senator and 
pay over the money for the overhauling of their 
machine. 

“One hundred dollars will set us about even,” 
Senator Yates had told them smilingly, referring 
to his note book. “You will have Patchin’s 
salary to pay while traveling, and his board wher- 
ever you put up. I have been paying him 
seventy-five a month, and he has helped with 
various duties around our Washington home be- 
sides. I should think that would be a fair amount 
to pay him now. You will be gone about four to 
five weeks, I suppose.” 

“Perhaps longer,” said Ruth honestly, “if our 
money holds out. I am not going with the girls 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 147 


this year, but I do want everything to turn out all 
right for them. Do you think they will do good 
scout work on the roads?”. 

“To be sure they will,” said the Senator heart- 
ily. “If I were not certain of it, I should never 
have encouraged them to undertake the trip. 
Patchin understands the State roads better than 
any other chauffeur I know. He has been out 
with me prospecting, so to speak, and has worked 
last summer directly with the pathfinders of the 
association. He is familiar with the campaign as 
we have planned it, and all the routes. Penelope 
has the road maps, and I have gone over them 
with her, marking in red in the doubtful 
thoroughfares and the sections we want inspected 
and mapped. She will explain it fully to the 
rest of the party. You will have plenty of en- 
joyment and fun out of the trip and plenty of 
work too to keep you out of mischief. I do not 
yet know how it will develop, or whether you can 
keep up the pace in the warm weather, but if all 
goes well, you will have a check when you get 
through to pay at least half of your expenses. 
Report regularly to me, and if I can help in any 
way, be sure I will respond at once. You see this 
way you are supplying your own chauffeur and 


148 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


car, where usually the association has to pay for 
both for its uses/’ 

“And we couldn’t have turned a wheel without 
your help,” Isabel said fervently. “Do you 
think. Senator Yates,” she hesitated, and Ruth 
wondered what Lady Vanitas had thought up 
now at the last minute. “Do you think it would 
be all right for us to wear dust caps on the road, 
pretty silky ones, I mean?” 

She said it so earnestly that the Senator barely 
smiled. He was a Virginian and a courtly old 
gentleman, even with these girls in their early 
teens. 

“I think they would be excellent. Miss Isabel,” 
he replied, “and vastly becoming. I should sug- 
gest vari-colored ones, and then at a distance, the 
machine will look as though laden with flowers.” 

Early Monday morning, about half-past six, 
the girls assembled at Glenwood. The Admiral 
stood on the broad veranda watching the get- 
away a trifle anxiously, but Mrs. Langdon was 
beside him, confident and cheery, and she hurried 
Polly away from his half-reluctant farewells, 
while the Senator was assuring him that every 
precaution had been taken to keep the “scooters” 
from danger. 


START OF THE “SCOOTERS” 149 


Finally they were all packed into the tonneau, 
with Penelope Harmon on the front seat beside 
Patchin. 

“Two on the rumbles, three on the seat,” called 
Polly, merrily. She turned to wave a last good- 
bye to Mandy and Uncle Peter, Lucy Lee, 
Stoney and old Balaam, all standing at the 
kitchen door under the vine-clad portico. 

“Good-bye, Grandfather dear, and Aunt Eve- 
lyn. We’ll meet you next week up at Rich- 
mond,” she cried. 

The motor throbbed. Patchin raised his cap 
in a final salute, and Penelope wiped her eyes in 
a last little flutter of emotion, as she said later. 

“I always have to shed a few tears from habit 
when a ship sails, or I say good-bye to any one. 
I can’t help it, and it’s no use fussing over it. 
It’s just a habit.” 

Crullers and Ruth stood with Isabel and waved 
to them. Only five could go at a time, so Natalie 
and Hallie, as the two new members, were to have 
the first two weeks, then Crullers and Isabel 
would join the party, and finish the rest of the 
tour with it. Yet at that last minute, it seemed 
too bad that any had to be left behind even for 
part of the time. Ted and Sue had offered to 


150 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


give up their two weeks, but they were needed too 
much as official photographer and secretary of 
the expedition. 

One last salute on the horn was given as they 
turned down on the shore road. Polly liked the 
new horn. Marbury had chosen it, and it was a 
sweet, soft-toned siren instead of a blood-curdling 
“honker.” 

There was no answer. Already they were out 
of hearing. Only the call of the road could reach 
them now. 


CHAPTER XI 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 

“Our first scouting duty, girls,” said Miss 
Harmon, “is to follow the road from Chaucerville 
to Turnbull Corners, return to main road and 
follow to Matoax, one hundred and twenty-two 
miles southeast, and report conditions. We’re 
about thirty-nine miles now from Chaucerville, 
aren’t we, Patchin?” 

“Barring accidents we are, ma’am,” replied 
Patchin with caution. “We’ll be at the Corners 
easy about five, and still have a midday rest-up. 
We’ll make Chaucerville in an hour at an easy 
clip.” 

“Please let’s not do any clipping,” Polly 
begged. “It’s cooler not to rush, and we want to 
see everything. It’s all so new to us. Did you 
say Matoax? We had that name in history, 
didn’t we, girls? I wish Ruth were here. She 
always remembers dates and points of interest.” 

“Wasn’t it one of Powhatan’s pet names?” 


152 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


asked Sue. ‘T think I remember calling it Bat- 
tle Ax, and Miss Honoria said ‘Ridiculous!’ 
You know that funny way she has, when she is 
feeling fearfully dignified, and puts her chin ’way 
down on hei* lace jabot.” 

“We should have brought along a megaphone, 
so Sue could sit up on top and sing out historic 
facts as we pass by places,” Ted remarked, 
thoughtfully. “Did Powhatan live around 
here?” 

“Further south, Ted, between the James and 
the York,” Polly replied. “Oh, see, we’re leav- 
ing the dear old bay behind us.” 

The machine swung away from the shore road, 
and turned towards the low rolling inland 
country. It seemed like parting from a friend 
to leave the deep blue waters of old Chesapeake 
behind them, but Patchin assured them they 
would catch up with it again on the return 
trip. 

“We will do considerable crossing on our own 
tracks one way and another,” he told them. 
“The routes are all mapped out carefully, and the 
Senator said if we failed to cover a point one day 
to follow it out the next.” 

“And we’re prepared to follow his directions 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


153 


exactly,” Miss Harmon agreed. “We want to 
touch at White Chinmeys on our way up the end 
of the week, and Sunday we will spent quietly in 
Richmond.” 

“Where do we lunch today?” asked Hallie, 
wistfully. “I was so excited over leaving that I 
hardly ate any breakfast, and I’m starved al- 
ready.” 

Polly promptly dipped down beside her, and 
drew out a narrow flat box. 

‘‘Mandy handed me this the last thing before 
we started, and told me it was to ‘stay’ us until 
we found a place to eat. Honey jumbles, and 
egg sandwiches, girls, and plums.” 

“It’s a mere teaser,” Ted protested, drawing in 
deep whiffs of the salt air. “If this keeps up, I 
shall want fried chicken and corn bread, and 
sweet corn, and baked potatoes — ” 

“Throw her out,” called Sue. “No fair mak- 
ing mouths water when it’s hopeless getting any- 
thing to eat. I’m hungry too.” 

“Then you’ll all be ready for luncheon at the 
old Carisbrooke Inn,” Penelope laughed. “We 
will reach it about eleven when we come to the 
turnpike, and I thought we could rest there until 
about four, through the heat of the day. We 


154 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


won’t make any runs at all while the sun is high- 
est.” 

Just at this minute a flock of white turkeys 
loomed up in the road ahead of them. There was 
a boy driving them along, but the minute they 
saw the machine, they scattered frantically, fill- 
ing the air with distressed gobbles. 

“Oh, dear,” cried Polly. “Why doesn’t he 
run after them?” 

But the turkey tender stood squarely in the 
middle of the road, waiting for the car until it 
halted within a few feet of him. He was brown 
as a caramel, with a sleepy friendly smile, and 
rolling mischievous eyes. As they all stared at 
him, he hitched up his one suspender, and hung 
his head. 

“Mah fowls dey’s all gone and mah paw’s goin’ 
ter lay for me if Ah doan’t bring ’em all back safe. 
Maybe you ail’d help get ’em back.” 

“Let’s, girls,” said Ted, impulsively. “It’s 
only fair when we scattered them. Let’s do it.” 

Out of the car they all got, even Miss Harmon, 
and started to coax back the recreant turkeys. 
They had taken refuge in the locust trees along 
the roadside and behind the old-fashioned rail 
fences, half buried in tall ferns. All the time 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


155 


the girls were hunting them, the turkey tender 
perched on a fence rail, and eyed the machine in- 
terestedly, asking questions of Mr. Patchin every 
minute or two. 

“Why don’t you help gather in the turkeys?” 
asked Miss Harmon. 

“Dey gets all frazzled when Ah chases ’em,” 
replied the little darky, innocently. “What’s dat 
shiny end sticking out dere?” 

The girls came back, breathless and flushed, but 
triumphant. 

“They’re all over the wall, and not one miss- 
ing,” Polly announced. “It was hard, but we 
coaxed them, and we’re so sorry the machine 
frightened them. Buddy.” 

Miss Pen slipped a quarter into the moist, 
brown palm as a Anally comforting compensa- 
tion for damages, and its owner smiled broadly. 
When the girls had climbed back into the ma- 
chine, he whistled, and lo, the white turkeys came 
over the fence meekly, and followed at his 
heels. 

“Dey all comes when Ah whistles,” he called 
after the car. “Ah jes’ forgot to whistle to 
’em.” 

“Well, the idea!” exclaimed Natalie, “I believe 


156 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


he has them all trained so they'll fly away when a 
car comes along, and he can stand still and collect 
damages.” 

The turkey tender rambled leisurely off down 
the road, and the girls laughed over the way he 
had managed the situation. 

They rode for miles through the rolling 
country, until a long up-grade climb loomed 
ahead. As far as they could see, the road wound 
its way under an arcade of beautiful locusts. 
The long pendant clusters of leaves looked trans- 
lucent in the bright sun glow, like the wings of 
the real locusts. At the top of the hill they came 
to an old toll gate, or pike house, as Miss Har- 
mon told them it was called. Here they made a 
stop to get a drink of cool well water, and look 
at the old toll house. 

The roof was built over the road in an arcade, 
with rooms on each side, and a huge rock chinmey 
on the kitchen end. The toll bar let down like 
a long well sweep across the road, and there was 
an old sign board up on a post giving the toll 
rates. 

Polly stood reading these figures over, when 
the toll gate tender’s wife came out smiling, a 
baby in her arms, and rosy cheeked twins cling- 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


157 


ing to her skirts. She was tall and thin herself, 
with but little color in her cheeks, and her hair 
straggled down in straw colored wisps behind 
each ear, but she looked radiant when the girls 
praised the children, and made the baby laugh. 

“His name is Lemuel like his father, and the 
twins has got sort of curious names, but I liked 
’em,” she told them. “This one with the freckles 
is Florella, and this one without freckles is Flor- 
inda. I was so thankful one of ’em freckled up, 
’cause it’s all their paw and me kin do to tell ’em 
apart.” 

FloreUa and Florinda dimpled and giggled at 
the girls’ petting, and hid their faces in their 
mother’s apron. 

“Isn’t it lonesome here in the winter time?” 
asked Sue. 

“Kind of, but we’re used to it. I never think 
about it, myself, ’cause I was born here. We all 
kept toll long before Lem come out this way. 
He used to peddle, and he’d stop over night here 
and talk to my folks, and he liked it so well he 
married me when Paw gave out.” 

“It’s a beautiful place to live, ’way up on this 
hill,” Polly said. “You can see the bay when the 
leaves are gone, can’t you?” 


158 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


The woman’s faded blue eyes grew wistful and 
dreamy. 

‘T don’t know much about it. I never was any 
further oiF than Tottenville, six miles down yon- 
der, but Lem’s been all over. He’s been up to 
Delaware and in Pennsylvany, and in North Car- 
oliny. I never talk about places to him, ’cause 
he gets to feeling the road pulling him away. 
Once he did go for four months, but we got on 
all right. I was glad to hear the bells on his 
horse, though, when he came back. Used to sit 
out here in the shade with the twins, they was 
babies then, and listen for those bells down the 
road all day. I knew for sure he’d come.” 

Miss Harmon was smiling over a story that 
Lemuel was telling her and Patchin, and she 
called to the girls to listen too. 

“See that sign of rates up thar?” Lem began. 
He was nearly six feet tall, with stooped shoul- 
ders, and his head looked sunken between his 
shoulders. Polly said she believed it was from 
sitting on his peddler wagon, all hunched up. 
His eyes were half closed from squinting, and had 
fine crows’ feet around them. He perched on a 
cracker box, and continued. 

“That’s been nailed up thar more’n seventy 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


159 


years. And it’s plain enough too, ain’t it? One 
penny for single man, two penny for man and 
horse, three penny for man, horse, and team. 
Well, one day years back when I first came here 
to live, there comes along a woman riding a sorrel 
mare. She was bound up state some place, she 
said, to her folks, and I declare if she didn’t look 
just like that mare. Both red haired, and big 
eyed, and skittish. She reined up in front of the 
sign, and the mare danced sideways. I hadn’t 
let the bar down, seeing it was only a woman com- 
ing along. 

“ ‘Them yer rates?’ ses she, pert like. 

“ ‘They are,’ ses I. 

“ ‘They don’t say anything about a woman 
and a mare,’ she ses, and gives the mare her head. 
‘Go long there, Jennie!’ 

“And the two of ’em loped down that road, 
and me standing here scratching my head. For 
she was right; it don’t say anything about a 
woman and a mare.” 

“What does it say about a machine and five 
girls, and a chauffeur and chaperon?” asked Miss 
Harmon, but Patchin said he had paid the 
twenty-five cents toll, and they climbed back into 
the car, and waved good-bye to the whole family. 


160 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Isn’t that queer, Miss Pen?” said Natalie, 
bending forward. “His wife doesn’t mind stay- 
ing there one bit because it’s always been her 
home, but she says he feels the road pull him 
away.” 

‘T guess it won’t pull him very far with all 
those little anchors to hold him steady,” replied 
Penelope confidently. She turned and waved 
once more to the lone figure watching them out of 
sight, before the road dipped, and they sped down 
into a long sweep of valley. 

The grass along the turnpike looked trampled 
and yellow, but there was not so much dust on the 
road as in the side one they had just left. The 
houses lay farther apart too. Once in a while 
they would come to a cluster of low cabins, with 
great white chimneys taking up nearly all of one 
side. There would be a scurrying of bare brown 
heels as the siren called its warning, and by the 
time the machine passed, up on the whitewashed 
fences would perch half a dozen or more little 
colored children, with wide smiling mouths and 
round staring eyes, watching the speeding car 
out of sight. 

“I love the patches of yellow the sunflowers 
make banked up in fence corners or against the 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


161 


houses,” said Ted, shaking back her hair from 
her eyes. ‘T wish I could paint pictures. I can 
see bits everywhere that would make such dandy 
pictures or sketches, but I don’t care. If I can’t 
be an artist. I’ll be a photographer, an art pho- 
tographer, I mean.” 

‘‘Taking pictures with a camera isn’t like being 
an artist, is it. Miss Pen?” asked Natalie. “Art- 
ists are a different kind of people.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that, young lady,” 
Penelope declared, turning in her seat, so she 
could see the girls. “I think that everyone is a 
real artist who achieves the dream or inner vision, 
as somebody has called it. Whether he is a 
builder of cathedrals, or bridges, or subways, if he 
builds true and perfectly, lending all the beauty 
of structure and line and curve that he can to his 
work, is he not a true artist?” 

Polly leaned over eagerly. 

“That makes me think of something that hap- 
pened at Glenwood last fall, and I was so puzzled 
over it. There was a dear friend of Grand- 
father’s from New York, and he was a well- 
known artist, National Academician and all that. 
And what do you suppose, girls? He said he 
hoped he’d find something inspiring around Glen- 


162 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


wood, so I trotted him to all of my pet views, 
the rose arbor that overlooks the river, and the 
old tree seat with the vines that cover it like a 
leafy cave, and the sun dial in the garden, and 
everything I could think of that we thought beau- 
tiful. And what do you suppose he finally 
painted? Mandy sitting out beside the kitchen 
door, peeling potatoes. She’d sit and chuckle all 
the time he was sketching her, and it did turn out 
to be the dearest picture when he was through. 
The vines climbing all over the trellis work, and 
the bright sunlight slanting through, and Mandy 
in her pink checked dress with a nice starched 
white handkerchief crossed on her breast, and a 
pink one over her hair. Behind her are the 
asters, pink and purple and white. It hung in 
the Exhibition in Paris last year, he wrote us, and 
just think, it was only a painting of old Aunt 
Mandy.” 

“Because he ‘painted the thing as he saw it, for 
the God of things as they are,’ ” quoted Penelope 
softly, her grey eyes keen and full of reverie. 
“That is true art, and I think, with Ted, if she 
wants to take photographs of outdoor types and 
life, she is surely taking up a branch of art that is 
developing marvelously. I saw in New York a 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


163 


stained glass window that was copied directly 
from a plate taken with the new color process, 
for they can photograph in color, you know. 
This was a clump of fox gloves in a garden, with 
the green bank of shrubbery behind them^ and 
full sunlight pouring down over all.” 

‘T have a girl cousin who works in stained 
glass,” said Natalie. “She says it’s the most in- 
teresting work, and you have to keep your pa- 
tience, matching the tints with pieces of glass 
layer on layer until you catch the exact tone.” 

“Isn’t that true artistry?” asked Miss Har- 
mon. “Doesn’t it make you think of character 
building, tone on tone, layer on layer, until it 
makes a perfect blend for the light to shine 
through?” 

“Oh, just look at those watermelons!” Sue ex- 
claimed, suddenly pointing to a wide stretching 
field of com with watermelons showing up and 
down the rows. 

“I thought we had left Crullers behind,” laughed 
PoUy. “Whenever we are soaring on poetic 
wings. Miss Pen, she always brings us down to 
earth by talking of something good to eat.” 

“Poetic wings are all right,” insisted Sue, 
“but watermelons grow on vines, and you don’t 


164 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


need any wings to get to them. May we stop 
and buy one, please, Miss Pen? I see a cabin 
roof right over those trees.” 

So art was shelved while they stopped at the 
watermelon-patch and persuaded its owner, an 
old grey-haired mammy, to part with a fine ripe 
melon. She was sitting out on the little “lean-to” 
porch at the back of the cabin, shelling peas in 
her apron, and she refused to trust even Patchin’s 
selection when it came to melons. Taking her 
cane, she hobbled out to the field, up and down 
the cornstalk rows, pushing aside the tall pink 
and red poppies and morning glory vines that 
clambered aroimd in the tall grass, until she 
found the melons. Each one she would thump 
gently with her knuckles, and listen, her head on 
one side. 

“Doan’t turn ’em over, chillun,” she pro- 
tj^ested, “dey’s jes’ as nervous and pernicky as 
babies. Ah nevah disturbs ’em. Turn ’em over 
and dey gits all discouraged and quits tryin’ to 
ripen. Ah jes’ knocks on ’em, and if dey go 
pank, dey’s still green, and if dey goes punk, 
dey’s ripe.” 

“Isn’t that queer. Miss Pen,” Polly exclaimed 
delightedly to Miss Harmon, who had followed 



If Dey Go Pank, Dey’s Still Green^ and if Dey Go Punk, Dey’s Ripe 





k $* 




^ « 


* 


^■r<u9 - “ . 

--■• • • 







HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


165 


the girls into the field. “WeVe got a little reci- 
tation at school that Crullers used to say, and it 
has just that same thing in it about watermelons, 
but I didn’t know it was true.” 

“Dar it is !” cried the old mammy all at once, 
finally tapping one that suited her. “And when 
you a’ gwine ter cut it open, it’ll be all mealy and 
red inside, and glistenin’ like dew.” 

Ted and Sue lifted it in their hands to carry, 
and Polly opened the club pocketbook to settle 
the bill, but the old woman put up both hands 
and shook her head. 

“Go ’long, chile, go ’long. When de good 
Lord sends me down watermelons jes’ like hail- 
stones, what he gwine ter say ter me if Ah 
charge his chillun twenty-five cents for one li’l, 
lonesome melon? Go ’long, now.” 

“Wasn’t she a dear to do that?” said Sue, when 
they had started again, with the melon safe un- 
der the rumbles. “How are we to cut it open, 
though?” 

Miss Harmon opened one of the side pockets, 
as the girls called the compartments tucked 
around in the tonneau in handy places, and drew 
out a narrow leather case. Inside were three 
knives of different sizes. 


166 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Just part of my emergency outfit, girls,” she 
explained. “I have brought along first-aid-to- 
the injured things too, but I didn’t think my 
first duty would be to carve a watermelon.” 

It seemed to the girls that first day as though 
every turn in the road brought out some fresh 
adventure. Everything was new to them, and 
full of surprises and novelty. The watermelon 
tasted better than any other melon they had 
ever eaten, they all declared, as the last rind flew 
back of them on the roadway. It was half past 
ten when they finally rolled into Chaucerville. 
While Patchin looked the machine over, the girls 
strolled around the center square and looked at 
the old ivy-covered church with its date on the 
cornerstone, “1714.” Dozing comfortably on 
its wide stone steps was an old colored man with 
a covered basket beside him. 

“Maybe he has some pralines,” Ted suggested. 
“Let’s just joggle his elbow a little, and when 
he wakes up, buy a lot of them.” 

But Polly protested against disturbing the old 
uncle’s dreams, for he looked so peaceful and 
happy. Then they stood around and called 
pleadingly: “Uncle! We want pralines. 

Wake up, wake up, wake up!” 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


167 


“I’m surprised at you, every single one,” 
laughed Miss Harmon, coming up to where they 
stood, but the old man wakened to find five 
merry girl-faces bending over him. 

“Jes’ a minute, jes’ a minute,” he protested. 
“What yo’ all want? Pralines? An’ here Ah 
jes’ got mint bunches.” 

“Never mind, we’ll buy some of those,” Polly 
declared; “mint is good to munch on.” 

He handed out the little clusters of fresh green 
mint, shaking his old grey head, and chuc- 
kling. 

“If you all come ’round dis way agin. All’ll 
sure have pralines, but dey ain’t a mite oh good 
lessen dey’s fresh and soft. An’ — an’ de Lord 
bress you all, chillun, an’ keep yo’ wandering 
feet on de road to Jerusalem.” 

“And Matoax too, uncle,” Polly said. 
“Good-bye.” 

He covered his basket again, as they went 
down the square, and tilted his old straw hat over 
his eyes, slipping easily back to dreamland. 

“If we do come back this way, we’ll watch for 
him and those fresh pralines,” Polly said. “I 
wish we had a recorder, or a reporter of events on 
this trip. So many things are happening, and 


168 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


we’ll forget the days and dates by the time we’re 
on the last end of the trip.” 

“Get a book and start right in, Captain,” Ted 
returned, cheerfully. “You see everything 
that’s exciting and interesting, and we’ll all be 
your reporters. Y/ou can be the editor of the 
Daily Squeal/^ 

“Oh, not a name like that, Ted,” Hallie pro- 
tested. “Have an inspiring one. The Daily 
Speeder/^ 

“Call it The Scooter/^ said Sue. “I’ll be the 
society editor.” 

“No, I think we must have a more dignified 
name, for it may turn out to be history,” Polly 
replied. “It will come to us all at once when 
we’re not thinking about it. When I want to 
remember anything, I just walk around the 
thought, and make believe I don’t see it at all, 
and pretty soon it comes up and tells me its 
name.” 

So the last errand they did in Chaucerville 
was to buy five notebooks and pencils, and Polly 
bought one good-sized ledger. It was in this 
little stationery store too that they learned how 
the town got its name. The proprietor was 
blind, and though he was tall and thin and quite 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 


169 


bald, he looked young in the face, and he smiled 
perpetually. His old black alpaca coat was 
shorter in the hack than the front, and he wore 
blue glasses, which seemed queer to the girls 
when he was quite blind. The sign above the 
door read, “Happy Carter.” 

‘‘Yes, that’s my name,” he told Natalie when 
she asked about it. “Folks gave it to me long 
ago when I was a little shaver, because I always 
had a pretty good time just being alive. My 
great grandfather founded this town. He was 
old Judge Ellery Carter, and he named the place 
after Geoffrey Chaucer because he always said 
it was the end of his pilgrimage in the New 
World. We lost our plantation during the ’60’s, 
but I’ve got this store and good health, and 
everybody’s my friend, so the world seems 
mighty bright to me.” 

“Were you alive in war time?” asked Hallie, 
impulsively. “You look so young.” 

“Do I, now?” He smiled. “I’m glad of that. 
Yes, I was about sixteen when the war broke 
out. My hair is white, what’s left of it, and I’ll 
be seventy next spring. I lost my sight with 
old Stoney Jackson.” 

“Just think of saying all that and meaning 


170 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


it,” exclaimed Polly, when they went out. They 
had told him their names, each one in her own 
voice, at his request, for he said he never forgot 
names or the voices that belonged to them. 

‘Tt makes one feel ashamed of ever complain- 
ing about anything,” replied Sue. “We’re a lot 
of ungrateful midges, fretful midges, I mean. 
Where did I read about fretful midges? I 
know I liked the expression because I’ve felt 
just like one, and wanted to spin around in the 
air, too.” 

Ted linked her arm in her chum’s soothingly. 

“Midge, girls, meaneth mosquito,” she ex- 
plained. “Sister Susan’s mind wanders from 
Happy Carter to ‘The Blessed Damosel.’ It 
speaks in that of the earth spinning around like 
a fretful midge, and she had to copy it five times 
last term for hiding butter-scotch under her pil- 
low and forgetting it, and behold, it did melt in 
the night watch, and Sister Susan was like Br’er 
Rabbit, all stuck up.” 

Patchin was waiting for them, and Miss Har- 
mon came out of the little post office where she 
had been sending postcards. 

“Keep your eyes wide open from now on, 
girls,” she told them, as they all climbed into 


HIGHWAY SCOUTING 171 

the car. “From Chaucerville your work be- 
gins.” 

“Won’t we be at the Inn pretty soon?” asked 
Hallie, wistfully. “I’m awfully hungry.” 

“In twenty minutes on the post road,” re- 
plied Patchin. 

Polly was hunting for the camera to be in 
readiness for the first necessary snapshot, and 
the other girls were jotting down their first im- 
pressions in their notebooks, to be used as copy 
in the motor journal later. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 

Carisbrooke Inn stood far back from the 
main road. It was an old red brick house, with 
huge white pillars across the front, half crum- 
bling away with age, but covered over with cling- 
ing vines. 

There seemed to be a little village of out-build- 
ings stretching behind it: the smoke house, forge, 
granaries, stables, tool house, well house, dairy 
house; and still farther on beyond these, the 
girls discovered a rare old garden, and enjoyed 
this most of all. 

Miss Penelope had decided to take a nap 
after the plentiful dinner of fried chicken, sweet 
corn fritters, baked ham, corn bread, and a peach 
pudding to top it off. Even Crullers, if she had 
been along, could not have complained of that 
dinner, Ted said, contentedly, when they started 
to explore the garden. 

“I always lie down during the heat of the day,” 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 173 


Miss Pen declared, “and I find it conserves 
energy. Of course you girls don’t have to con- 
sider that yet, for you’re every one just live 
wires of energy as it is, and I do believe you 
have private storage batteries at that. When 
you turn the forty milestone, you’ll begin to 
conserve.” 

But the girls were too much accustomed to the 
summer temperature in Virginia to mind it, and 
they preferred looking the inn over to resting 
indoors. Polly found the garden first. On each 
side of the tall iron gate was a low stone house 
hardly five feet tall, and the girls looked inside 
these curiously. 

“Little smoke houses for hams and bacons,” 
Sue said, sniffing. 

“No, they were garden houses, I think,” Polly 
answered. “See the little shelves on each side, 
and here are old flower pots and a trowel. Let’s 
go into the garden. I smell plums, girls.” 

It was a perfect wildwood of old-fashioned 
flowers, that garden. A high rock wall sur- 
rounded it, and there was an old wrought iron 
seat half buried in the tall ribbon grass and 
phlox. The ground along the center walk was 
carpeted with myrtle, and tall trumpet flowers 


174 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


reared their flaming chalices out of masses of 
wild pinks and lilies. The roses had been un- 
tended for many seasons and grew everywhere 
in straggling happy-go-lucky fashion. The 
pink ones struggled for life on low, crooked 
bushes under the tall spreading branches of 
syringa and flowering quince, but in one far cor- 
ner the stately bride roses held their own and the 
girls gathered a full cluster of these for Miss 
Penelope. 

There was a sundial at the center of the walk, 
rusty and almost illegible, but the girls traced 
the letters on it with their fingertips until they 
made out the motto. 

‘T record only the hours that are bright.” 

Miss Harmon was in the old-time sitting-room 
when they returned, fully refreshed from her 
nap, and looking at the oil paintings and steel 
engravings on the wall, 

“Girls, do you know this inn was built in 1767 
of brick brought over from England?” she 
exclaimed. “See the date on this rock fire- 
place.” 

“It’s out on the carriage block too,” said Ted. 
They leaned forward to read the inscription 
chisled deeply in the rock. 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 175 


‘‘Rest thee, heart, and take good cheer. 

For food and fire and friends are here/’ 

‘‘And now all are gone excepting the chairs,’’ 
Polly said, looking around at the semi-circle of 
old rush bottom arm-chairs drawn in stately ar- 
ray around the room. “I haven’t seen any 
proprietor. Miss Pen, excepting the old house- 
keeper. Who owns the inn?” 

“Miss Philippa Carisbrooke. She lives up at 
Richmond, and is a dear friend of Mrs. Yates. 
That is why I wanted to bring you here to see 
the inn. It is part of the large Carisbrooke 
estate, and is her special hobby. She will not 
permit any changes to be made since her father 
and mother died here within a few hours of each 
other. Upstairs in their room you may see their 
chairs standing close together, and beside them 
on the little low candlestands their Bibles with 
the folded gold bowed spectacles on the covers 
just as they left them. The garden has lain un- 
touched, and even the old fire irons and candle- 
sticks stay as they did fifty years ago. This is 
one of the first inns built on this turnpike, and 
long before the railroad went through, travelers 
always stopped here over night on the weary 
overland journeys by carriage. I believe it was 


176 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


a tavern originally, before this new part was 
added.” 

“What’s the difference between an inn and a 
tavern?” asked Hallie. 

“Well, not so much, only in dignity. An inn 
is less transitory, I should say. It caters to 
travelers, and has an atmosphere of fine old hos- 
pitality and good cheer that the tavern lacks. 
Do you girls remember how Omar speaks of 
the inn where we all sojourn for a little while?” 

“Let’s send postcards to Miss Carisbrooke 
from here,” said Polly impulsively, “and tell her 
we sojourned at her inn, and enjoyed being her 
guests ever so much.” 

“Polly always thinks of the nicest thing to 
do,” Natalie told Hallie. “I always remember 
afterwards, but it’s too late then.” 

“Have you seen the old hell in the back yard. 
Miss Pen?” Ted interposed. “They used to 
ring it to call the field hands in. It has a date 
on it too, but it’s so far up you can’t see it. 
Crullers would have climbed the post, wouldn’t 
she, girls? The place seems such a queer mix- 
ture of gentility and wildness.” 

Miss Harmon nodded her head and smiled as 
they all went out on the wide veranda. 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 177 


‘‘I have heard Mrs. Yates tell of the gloom 
that seemed to hang over the old inn. People 
said the first Carisbrooke was somewhat of a 
scapegrace, who came over from England in a 
spirit of adventure. He was a great help 
in fighting the Indians, so he received this 
grant of land, but he married an indentured 
girl—” 

“What kind of a girl?” Sue asked, eagerly. 

“Indentured. You have read of the first serv- 
ants of the colony, haven’t you. They were 
mostly indentured, leased out to service, so to 
speak, for a certain time, instead of serving their 
time in prison.” 

“Had his bride been in prison?” the girls broke 
in. 

“No, but she had been transported to the 
colonies for some misdemeanor, and he took her 
here as a servant. She nursed him back to life 
after a long spell of fever following the Indian 
campaigns, and he married her. I think they 
were very happy too, but the old families never 
forgave him for stepping outside the magic cir- 
cle for his bride.” 

“Perhaps she planted some of the roses and 
vines,” said Polly thoughtfully. “I think I’ll 


178 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


just go back and get a little slip of the myrtle to 
plant when I get back home.” 

“And who’s to tend it now?” asked Ted, 
cautiously. “A sprig of personally conducted 
myrtle to be nourished for five weeks on a motor 
trip. Polly, send it by parcel post to Glenwood, 
or press a piece of it.” 

“No, I want it to be alive and growing all over 
our garden. I won’t be a minute.” She ran 
back to the old garden, and returned presently 
with a slip of myrtle in a three-inch flower pot. 

“The old colored gardener gave it to me, and 
his name is Ichabod,” she declared. 

“ Tchabod, thy glory is departed,’ ” quoted 
Sue, solemnly. “Hurry up, Polly, because Mr. 
Patchin is ready, and we’re going to hit the pike 
again.” 

“Sue is lapsing into what the doctor calls the 
vernacular, Miss Pen,” Polly teased. “She’s 
talking about hitting the pike.” 

“It may be a fact,” warned Sue, placidly. “If 
we run into some of the things I’ve heard of.” 

The heat of the day was waning when they 
left Chaucerville. Ted said they were real pil- 
grims now, and must put from them all frivoli- 
ties, and attend strictly to business. 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 179 


Polly had the road map outspread on her lap, 
and every mark on it was to be verified as they 
passed along. 

“We’re running between the Rappahannock 
and the York now,” said Miss Harmon. “At 
Creighton Courthouse we put up for the night, 
and will reach Matoax tomorrow.” 

“Ford ahead!” called Hallie, excitedly spring- 
ing up. Sue promptly sat down on her lap, and 
the car dipped to a little creek that crossed the 
road. It looked innocent enough and the water 
was low, but the girls held their breath when the 
machine struck the water, and ploughed its way 
through. 

An old-fashioned rockaway had halted on the 
high side of the road across the stream, and when 
the car made its hasty appearance, the mule be- 
gan to back, ears pointed straight forward. 
There was an old lady driving, and two little 
girls sitting behind, very clean and prim, and 
holding hands tightly. 

“Now, be still, Chickahominy, be still,” ex- 
claimed the old lady, vigorously tugging at the 
lines. “You cut up just as if you were some 
silly two-year-old, instead of a sensible old crea- 
ture ’most twenty years old. Go right along. 


180 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


strangers, we won’t do you a mite o’ harm. I 
can manage Chickahominy, and she knows it.” 

As soon as the car had passed, evidently 
Chickahominy plucked up courage, and went 
down to the ford for a drink, but she turned her 
head, and stared distrustfully back at the strange 
apparition that had frightened her on the 
familiar road. The old lady was still scolding 
her as if she understood every word, and as Sue 
said, she might have, at that. 

“Mark down in your book, Polly, Rickadee 
Ford, good condition. Met Chickahominy and 
passed in safety,” suggested Miss Harmon. ‘T 
declare, girls, I’ve never been over your roads 
down here before, hut we meet as many odd char- 
acters, and have as much fun as you do traveling 
abroad. Did you notice the meditative droop to 
Chickahominy’s left eyelid as she watched us 
go by?” 

“The map’s marked ‘woods’ right after that 
ford,” Polly said presently, poring over her 
map. “And there are two roads ahead of us. 
Is there a signboard up, Mr. Patchin?” 

Patchin shook his head doubtfully, and 
lowered speed. At the fork in the road the girls 
got out to do some surveying. There was no 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 181 


signboard on the post, but smoke curled lazily 
out of the woods ahead, and they followed it to 
see if they could find a house. After about half 
a mile there was a small clearing with many 
stumps of trees scattered about, and a row of 
children lined up, staring at the intruders 
anxiously. Beyond the house was a barn with 
the hay doors wide open, and an ox team stand- 
ing outside. In the meadow at the far side 
grazed some thin cows. 

Polly went up the path, and spoke to the 
tallest girl. She was about ten, with straggly 
hair cut off below her ears, and wistful eyes far 
too old for her years. 

“Could we see your mother, please?” Polly 
asked in her friendliest way. One of the 
younger boys spoke up instantly with most dis- 
concerting promptness. 

“Can’t. She’s dead.” 

It was awkward, but Polly persevered, even 
with Sue pinching her arm to be careful. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anything about 
it, of course. Could we see your father then?” 

“He’f gone to the Corners for grain. You 
can see Pete.” 

Before the girls could agree to interviewing 


182 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


the unseen Pete, all six children took to their 
heels and ran towards the tumbledown barn, call- 
ing at the top of their lungs, “Petey! Some- 
body wants you.” 

Whereupon the real master of the house 
appeared. He held a long pitchfork in one 
hand, and seemed to be about fourteen, but was 
tall for his age. His hair grew long around his 
face like taffy-colored fringe, but it was a cheery, 
happy face it framed even though it had small 
pretensions to good looks. He seemed to quiet 
and reassure the whole pack of excited 
youngsters with a word and a smile, as he 
listened to the complaints of the pathfinders. 

“The two signboards are missing up at the 
crossroads,” Polly explained. “And it’s very 
important that they are found, or people may 
lose their way going through.” 

“Nobody ever goes through here ’ceptin’ 
Paw,” volunteered the same boy. 

“But they must be replaced, for that’s the 
law of the road.” 

Petey scratched his head and surveyed the 
landscape as if he expected the signboards to 
rise from the grass and come towards him. 

“I ain’t seen ’em,” he said, “nor I ain’t noticed 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 183 


’em being gone. Cissy, have you all seen them 
signboards anywhere?” 

Cissy, the tall, shy-eyed girl at his elbow, 
smiled, and ducked her head behind him. 

“Does she know where they are?” Polly 
asked, laughing. Petey bent his head and 
listened to Cissy’s confession. Then he nodded 
gravely. 

“She says they was all loose anyhow and rot- 
ten, and she an’ Wingate there, they clum up 
and pulled ’em down to tie on the old cow’s rope 
so she wouldn’t ramble too far into the woods. 
We can get ’em back again.” 

“You’d better do it at once,” Polly said firmly, 
“for we’ll be back this way probably, and unless 
the signs are up, there’ll be a fine.” 

“Put ’em up tonight,” promised Petey. 
“Cissy didn’t mean no harm, I know, only they 
come in handy like.” 

“But you’ll see they are nailed back, won’t 
you, Petey?” 

He promised faithfully he would take the sign- 
boards off Bess and Buttercup, and the girls 
trudged back through the old wood road to the 
pike, and told Miss Harmon of their success. 

“There they are, six of them, and a father 


184 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


some place around the landscape,” Sue said 
tragically, “and no mother. Just looking after 
themselves, coming up like the lilies of the 
field.” 

“They don’t look a bit like lilies,” Polly pro- 
tested. “More like hardy little thistles that will 
flourish in any soil. And they all had straight 
taffy-colored hair and stubby noses and 
freckles.” 

Ted was busy taking a picture of the two roads 
as a warning to be put on the new map, and when 
she had secured it, they went on down the right 
hand one which Petey had said was the road to 
the Courthouse. 

“I wonder if we will ever see them again,” 
Polly said. 

“Well, you did your scout duty at all events,” 
Penelope told her comfortably, “and you can’t 
take every family we meet on the road under 
your wings, girls. Human nature is the most 
interesting and wonderful study in all the world. 
It is never quite the same, and if you keep your 
eyes opened wide you find stories of romance and 
adventure lying all about you.” 

“Oh, I know,” Natalie cried with sparkling 
eyes. “We lived at a big hotel in ’Frisco, and 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 185 


there was a roof garden on top of it. You 
could see out all over the harbor at night from 
it, and the hills around the city seemed lit up 
like the gnome hills in the Island of Rugen. I 
used to stand there with my father and wonder 
what kind of stories lay behind each light.” 

“Where are the gnome hills in Rugen?” 
Hallie asked, her chin on her palm. “I have 
never heard of them.” 

“Read Whittier’s 'Brown Dwarf of Rugen,’ 
or may be it is Lowell, I forget now. I found 
it long, long ago in a volume of St. Nicholas, and 
it told how the hills of Rugen raised up at night 
like little tents, and the gnomes and brown 
dwarfs came out to dance in the starlight.” 

“Hallie, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” 
teased Sue, pulling Hallie’s long brown braids 
like reins behind her. 

“No one is too old for them,” Miss Harmon 
said happily. “I love to listen to them even 
now, and in some parts of Europe the people 
really believe them. It is fun to be in Ireland. 
I used to catch myself sidestepping every flower 
for fear it might be a fairy in disguise.” 

“Town below!” called out Polly suddenly, as 
the car swerved around a turn in the road. Be- 


186 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


low them a church spire with a weathervane 
reared its gilded crest above the tree tops. 

“This must be Painted Rock,” said Miss Har- 
mon. “Look on your map, Polly. It used to 
be called Mattawossac, and it was said at James- 
town among the colonists that the Laughing 
King of Accomac held his summer court here. 
Then he was driven back, and the colonists found 
strange painted inscriptions on the face of 
a great rock and they thought it must be some 
Indian spell left to inspire dread in the hearts of 
the white conquerors.” 

Patchin needed some oil, and they waited 
while he hunted up the village store. The girls 
had not quite grown accustomed to being ob- 
jects of interest, and it embarrassed them to find 
the car surrounded by all the children and half- 
grown boys of the town, to say nothing of six 
dogs and four black pigs that sauntered leis- 
urely out of a yard and crossed the road to dis- 
cover the cause of the commotion. 

“You’ll not mind it after a day or two,” Miss 
Harmon told them, when they were on the road 
again. “In fact, I found out if I didn’t make 
a little bit of a sensation when I came into a new 
place, I felt almost disappointed.” 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 187 


It was just sunset when they neared Creighton 
Courthouse. The distant hills deepened to 
amethyst, then to purple, with a rim of gold 
along the summits. The sun rays streamed out 
in long radiating paths of light, and far below 
lay the cool dim valleys. The girls did little 
talking now. It was too still and mystical. 
Above them in the clear, amber sky, the swallows 
darted and circled in their vesper dance, and 
every now and then a bat would hurtle past them. 

“Oh, girls, look off there where that fringe of 
willows is,” cried Ted suddenly, pointing to a 
river course far down the valley. “Just see how 
the mist is rising and stealing along those 
meadows. It looks like a lot of shrouded 
figures, doesn’t it?” 

“Like the Moon people in Dore,” Miss Har- 
mon added. “It seems alive, girls.” 

Patchin halted the car for a few minutes so 
that they could watch the mist rise. Each hil- 
lock and clump of trees turned into an island in 
a grey shoreless sea. 

Polly was singing, her cap in her lap, the wind 
blowing back her brown hair. 

*‘Sinc« I found the wmndcr ros*, 

Smiling skies are o’er me. 


188 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Dew wet lane and Hawthorne hedge, 

Open now before me. 

Rain may fall, I heed it not. 

For, whate’er the weather. 

Luck and I go hand in hand, 

Down the world together.*" 

“Oh, Polly, you old dear,” exclaimed Sue with 
one of her rare outbursts of affection, as she 
gripped Polly’s nearest arm impulsively. 
“Luck does go with you, too. I’m so glad you 
thought this all up.” 

“I’m more glad that you girls carried it out. 
Lots of good my thinking it up would have done 
if you hadn’t helped and helped until it all hap- 
pened,” Polly returned heartily. “Let’s sing as 
we make the last stretch tonight, girls.” 

The clear young chorus of voices carried far 
on the twilight air. Polly led off with some of 
Aunty Welcome’s old plantation songs. There 
was one camp meeting hymn she had always 
loved. 

“I’m a’gwine away, by de light ob de moon, 

And I want all de chiH’un for ter follow me, 

I hope I meet you darkies soon, 
Halle-halle-halle-halleluj ah ! 

In de mo’ning, in de mo’ning by de bright light. 
When Gabriel blows his trumpet in de mo’ning.” 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 189 


Three verses of this, and Ted started up 
“Polly-wolly-doodle,” with Sue singing alto, and 
Ted beating a drum tattoo on the new ledger. 
It was dusk and about half past seven when they 
finally rolled into Creighton Courthouse, with a 
solemn chant about ‘‘Old Uncle Peter.” 

“I always change the words of this,” Polly had 
explained. “Aunty Welcome taught it to me, 
but she said while the real song suggested that 
Uncle Peter took too much hard cider, still it 
was better just to say he had a bad dream.” So 
they sang accordingly: 

“Ole Uncle Peter had a dream las’ night, 

He looked out de winder and he saw a sight, 

Dissa am de story dat he tole me. 

All about de animals he did see. 

Skunk on de wall was a’blowin’ his nose. 

Toads in de grass wif dere sojer clo’es, 

Cats in de pantry catchin’ mice. 

Spider in de cobweb frowin’ dice. 

Chorus: 

Den hop along, hop along, hop along Peter, 

Hop along, hop along, hop along Peter. 

Oh, hop along, hop along, hop along Peter, 

Nevah go to sleep on gooseberry wine.” 

Miss Harmon and Polly secured the rooms 


190 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


for the party at the hotel, a comfortable red 
brick house with two galleries covered over with 
vines. The girls had a large double room and 
Hallie slept with her cousin. Just as they were 
slipping away into dreamland, Sue screamed, 
and covered her head with the sheet. Polly sat 
bolt upright in bed, but ducked under as some- 
thing swished past her head in the darkness. 

‘Tt’s a bird,” she said. “Don’t be frightened. 
Sue.” 

“It’s not a bird,” moaned Sue. “It’s a bat 
and they clutch your hair and won’t let go. Oh, 
Polly, there it is again!” 

“Don’t light up,” Ted cautioned. “The light 
attracts it. Just keep perfectly cool and 
calm, PoUy. We’ll all keep under the bed 
clothes till you get it out.” 

“Can anyone remember where the door is?” 
Polly cried, striking out with a pillow at the bat 
as it brushed by her. “Oh, dear, it hit my 
shoulder.” 

“Throw a pillow at it, Polly,” advised Natalie 
from under her bed. “Or my shoe. It’s right 
over there.” 

“Hadn’t I better ring one of these little bells,” 
Ted suggested, reaching over to the wall. 


RECORD OF SUNNY HOURS 191 


“Ring them all,” said Polly, desperately. 
“Water, fire, porter, and chambermaid. I think 
there should be a special bell for bats.” 

“There it goes now,” Sue opened the door 
wide, and the bat sped out, a strange, swift 
shadow of darkness. She pushed the door shut, 
and sat against it exhausted, and laughing. “It 
went upstairs, girls.” 

“Maybe it has a nice little nest in the garret,” 
said Ted sleepily. “And I was not under the 
bed, Polly. Nat was under the bed. I was only 
under the sheet.” 

“Do let’s be quiet,” whispered Polly. “We’ll 
wake up everybody. If any more bats come, get 
under the bedclothes and say nothing.” 

But no more came, and silence fell at last over 
the first night’s bivouac. 


CHAPTER XIII 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 

When the other girls wakened the following 
morning, the first picture that greeted their sight 
was Polly in her night gown, with her brown 
hair streaming over her shoulders, seated on the 
floor studying the road map. 

“You must wake and call me early, call me 
early, mother dear,” chanted Sue. “Is it time to 
get up, Polly?” 

“Six o’clock. Look at this map, girls. We 
follow the old road back to Matoax, and then 
strike down across the valley to the Rappahan- 
nock. We cross the York after that, I believe. 
Mr. Patchin says this road on to Matoax has 
been explored but once, and if we can’t get 
through we will have to turn back and report it 
impassable.” 

“Automobiles should be made to go either on 
land or in the air,” mused Ted, tugging at the 
knots in her hair. “To go by land or sea as 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 193 


emergency or fancy dictated. Then when we 
came to a road that was impassable, we could go 
flitting over it.” 

“You won’t do any flitting on this trip,” Polly 
returned. “You’ll go roundabout. Yes, Miss 
Pen,” as a tap sounded on the door. “We’re 
all up. Good-morning, lady chaperon.” 

Miss Harmon came in, smiling and trim in her 
motor costume of grey waterproof silk. She 
laughed over the bat adventure, and told Ted 
to be sure her camera was well loaded. 

“You will see a good many interesting places 
as we go further south on this trip, girls. We 
go over some of the old Indian sites, and also 
some of the early settlements. All along the 
York River and the James there are old colonial 
homes that used to be part of large grants and 
plantations. This part of Virginia is dearest to 
me, of course, for White Chimneys lies in it. 
The western and northern borders with their 
memories of the civil strife, seem to bring only 
sadness.” 

“Shall we see where Pocahontas lived. Miss 
Pen?” asked Sue. 

“I am not certain, but we do pass close to one 
place that is called Powhatan’s Chimney near 


194 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


the shrine of Uttamussac. The Indian braves 
used to go out in canoes and drop pieces of cop- 
per into the water there to propitiate their god 
whom they named Kiwassa, or ‘One-Alone- 
Called-Kiwassa.’ ” 

‘T wonder if some day another race will go 
poking over our ruins and wondering all about 
us,” Polly said, brushing out her long curls 
vigorously over her head. “Mandy always gives 
Stoney the broken dishes to bury down in the 
back lot by the river, and some day perhaps an- 
tiquarians will be digging there and find them, 
and they will be put up in museums a thousand 
years from now, as rare antiques of a lost 
race.” 

After breakfast they all went out to look at 
the large courthouse that gave the town its name. 
There was a green square in front of it, sur- 
rounded by an iron railing, and on court day, the 
girls were told, every inch of space at the railing, 
was taken up as hitching places. 

The courthouse was of red brick, and had 
long, low steps leading up to it. Four o' clocks 
grew thickly along the fences, and far in the 
back stood a little stone cabin where the care- 
taker lived. He came hobbling out, and will- 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 195 


ingly opened the dors for the girls to take a look 
inside. 

“It actually smells important, doesn’t it?” said 
Polly, sniffing at the shadowy interior and up at 
the tall paintings on the wall. There was one of 
John Randolph of Roanoke, very stern and 
weighty looking, and another of an old judge 
with his grey hair brushed up straight like a 
cockatoo’s tuft. 

“This is a very old building,” the caretaker 
told them, his head fairly shaking with pride. 
“It stands on the foundation of one of the first 
assembly houses in this country, and Patrick 
Henry himself has spoken from the bench.” 

“Let’s all go up and sit down on it for a 
minute and meditate,” said Sue the irrepressible. 
“We may gain wisdom by reflected glory.” 

“Sue, don’t,” Polly begged. “It’s so wonder- 
ful even to stand where they have been.” 

“Also the Minute Men of the Rappahannock 
met here,” went on the caretaker happily, and 
he brushed off a fleck of dust from the polished 
door handle. 

“I remember about them,” Hallie exclaimed. 

“And Morgan’s riflemen too; remember them, 
girls?” asked Ted, lifting her head like a war- 


196 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


horse at the smell of powder. Ted dearly loved 
wars. “They were all bordermen in hunting 
shirts and had ‘Liberty or death’ on their breasts. 
And when they met Washington, Morgan 
saluted and said, ‘From the right bank of the 
Potomac, General.’ Wasn’t that bully, though, 
after that long march?” 

“I’d hate to try the effect of a real fife and 
drum corps around Ted,” murmured Sue in an 
undertone. “She’ll fight any old battle over any 
time, and whoop for old Old Glory in her sleep.” 

“I’m going to be a Red Cross nurse, any way,” 
said Ted stolidly, unmoved by criticism. 

“Yesterday you were going to be an art 
photographer, and tomorrow you’ll turn into 
an antiquarian as soon as you see ruins. Do I 
not know thee, Edwina, and still put up with all 
thy little vagaries?” Sue leaned an affectionate 
arm around her chum’s shoulders. 

“My vagaries? Just listen to Sue, Miss 
Pen—” 

Miss Harmon laughed at Ted’s mock indigna- 
tion. 

“I refuse to arbitrate on such a weighty mat- 
ter. Let’s get away from this Patrick Henry 
atmosphere that breeds contention. We shall 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 197 


want to leave in good time any way, as it looks 
like rain.” 

About thirty miles out of Creighton around 
ten o’clock they sighted the first machine they 
had met on the road so far. It was a grey road- 
ster. Polly insisted that it looked piratical at a 
distance, being “long, low, and rakish” in appear- 
ance, but when it overtook them, the occupants 
turned out to he four young men bound for 
Newport News. They flew the A. A. A. 
pennant also, and the girls felt their scouting re- 
sponsibility heavily when asked advice on the 
condition of the roads and toll rates. 

“You haven’t got any canned goods to spare, 
have you?” asked one of the boys anxiously. 
“We’ve run out of supplies. Just sardines and 
crackers, or baked beans?” 

Polly exchanged swift glances of consultation 
with Miss Harmon, and the private supply of 
food was dragged out from cover and opened 
up. 

Two tins of sardines and a box of crackers 
changed hands, and the boys, for they seemed to 
be all under twenty, passed over four large can- 
teloupes and several oranges. 

“We’ve lived on these since yesterday noon,” 


198 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


one of them said sadly. “Did you find any 
places to eat?” 

“Lovely ones,” called Ted and Sue in one 
breath. “Fried chicken and peach dumplings 
with whipped cream. You took the wrong 
road. Mark Carisbrooke Inn down on your 
maps.” 

“Oh, we’ll be all right when we hit Newport 
News. Randy here at the wheel has an entire 
family anxiously awaiting our coming.” Here 
Randy blushed and smiled good-naturedly. 
Then all four cheered lustily for the scouters, and 
waved their sardine cans and cracker box until 
they were out of sight in a swirl of dust. 

“Let’s make this pike the road to Jericho,” 
suggested Polly. “I feel all smiley and glowing 
like the best Samaritan that ever was. And 
they were the best sardines too.” 

“Rain!” cried Hallie, putting out her hand. 
“I felt a splash.” 

“We won’t melt like sugar if it is,” Natalie 
protested. “It won’t last long, will it, Mr. 
Patchin?” 

“Hard to say. It’s coming from the east, and 
pretty squally,” Patchin told her. “I’ll put up 
the shields.” 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 199 


“And cover the suitcases,” warned Polly. 
The machine came to a standstill while all hands 
helped “reef sails, and trim for bad weather,” 
as the Admiral would have said. The skies were 
rapidly being cloudswept, and the grey mists 
seemed to fold them in on all sides after the first 
shower had passed. 

“It has settled down for a day of it, I think,” 
Miss Harmon remarked, as they picked their 
way with caution over the new road. “And 
there isn’t an inch of this mapped between here 
and Matoax, is there, Patchin?” 

“No, ma’am, and no hotel or stopping place 
that I know of unless we run across a house where 
they’ll take us in.” 

“And think of those poor boys hound straight 
for Newport News,” exclaimed Polly. “They’ll 
never get there before night with this going. 
Maybe our sardines and crackers are all the food 
they will have until tomorrow. There comes a 
man walking. We can ask him.” 

The stranger looked to be very tall, with brown 
jeans tucked down into the tops of his high 
hoots, and his hair and beard mingled in one 
curly mass of white ripples. On his head he 
wore a broad-brimmed straw hat without any 


200 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


crown, and as he neared them, he lifted the brim 
jauntily and smiled. 

“Howdy, travelers. Looks like it had set in 
for a spell of rain, don’t it? It always rains 
when it’s a mind too, I’ve noticed, and there ain’t 
a thing we can do about it. Bound south?” 

“As far as Matoax,” said Patchin. “Plow’s 
the roads?” 

“Middlin’ good for walking. I don’t know 
what this fancy carryall of yours would do. 
And it’s coming down steady. I’ve walked 
about nine miles since five, and I expect to get 
as far as Pitching River tonight.” He leaned 
one foot up on the running board confidentially, 
and removed the hat brim, fingering it with ten- 
der fingers. “I work awhile here and there till 
I feel I want to set out and walk, and nothing 
seems to satisfy me but seeing the miles unroll 
ahead like ribbons under the sky.” 

“Are you a Virginian? You don’t talk like 
one,” said Miss Harmon. 

“No’m. North Carolina. Hickory Nut Gap. 
You ask anybody in northwest Carolina if they 
know Wandering Joe Pattens, and they’ll tell 
you all about me. Like enough say I’m crazy, 
but I ain’t. Got my notions like everybody. 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 201 


Like to sleep outdoors, and don’t like to feel any- 
thing on top of my head, and like to walk twenty 
miles a day and more.” He shook back his long 
curly hair like some old scout or hunter, and his 
eyes twinkled as he looked at the eager young 
faces bending towards him. ‘T had a little mite 
of a gal once, looked like this brown-eyed one,” 
pointing at Polly, ‘‘an’ she liked blueberries. 
We lived in a lonesome part of the mountains, 
and her mother’d gone down to the settlement 
after some things. Do you mind my talking 
about it?” 

“Oh, go on, please,” Polly urged. 

“Well, I took her up in the woods where I was 
chopping, and she kind of slipped away from me. 
We hunted for her over a week. Ever hunt 
through the woods for some one who was lost? 
No? It’s mighty fearsome and wearing. Some 
nights I wake up now, and find myself calling 
her, and I guess that’s why I can’t stop wander- 
ing around. ’Cause we never did find her, and 
after a while her ma’ jes’ natcherally pined away 
and died too. It’s thirty years back now, but I 
kinder keep on walking. Seems like I can’t 
stand it this time of the year when the blueberries 
ripen. If you ride over to the Gap, ask folks 


202 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


about Joe Pattens, and they’ll all speak a good 
word for me.” 

“Oh, we’re all so sorry,” Sue exclaimed fer- 
vently, just as if it had happened yesterday. 
“Can’t we do anything for you, Mr. Pattens?” 

He shook his head, and replaced the old brim. 
The top of his head was soaking wet from the 
rain and it trickled down his beard like tears, but 
he was still smiling. 

“No’m,” he said, cheerfully. “There ain’t 
anything for me to do but keep on walking. 
Reckon I’ve walked all over this state and Mary- 
land and the Carolinas, and a good part of Ken- 
tucky too. Sometimes I feel all right and settle 
down in one place, but soon as I do I can hear 
Annie calling me out in the timber, so I have to 
move along.” 

“Isn’t that sad. Miss Pen?” exclaimed the girls, 
almost in one breath, when they had started on, 
and the dreary old figure could be seen trudging 
down the road. 

“There are strange sorrows in this world,” 
answered Penelope, her forehead puckered into 
fine wrinkles. “It is hard to find the answer to 
the universal why of things. Poor old Wander- 
ing Joe! It’s good he can wander and feel that 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 203 


it eases his mind a bit. I suppose in New Eng- 
land they would catch him and pack him into 
some institution, but down here in this dear 
happy-go-lucky land they let him wander on and 
follow the voice of his dreams.” 

“I got him, just the same,” Ted said content- 
edly. “While he was talking, you know when I 
stepped down and went after the flowers. Sue? 
Well, I snapped him then as he stood by the car.” 

“It won’t come out good in this rain, goose,” 
Polly laughed, “and if it doesn’t it’s a judgment 
on you for trying to take a picture when he was 
telling such a sad story.” 

“Oh, look, girls,” exclaimed Natalie just then. 
“There’s that gi’ey car stopped dead short at the 
foot of the hill.” 

They soon caught up with it, although the road 
was getting heavy to travel through. 

“The engine died just as we started to climb 
the hill,” one of the boys said. “Can you give us 
a pull up ?” 

“Hadn’t we better all get out first?” Polly said 
when she saw Patchin was agreeing to give the 
necessary “shove up.” “Maybe we’ll start to 
back down.” 

“No, we won’t. The brake bands are new, and 


204 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


we can all stay in,” returned Miss Harmon. 
“Pull ahead, Patchin. Now, Polly, you are a 
real Samaritan. This is even better than feed- 
ing thy neighbor sardines and crackers.” 

When the tug up-hill was over, and they all 
rested at the crest, Patchin gave the boys some 
gasoline from his tank, and helped them get their 
car into shape again. 

“He does it easily enough,” said the boy they 
called Randy, “and here I crawled underneath 
her in the mud, and coaxed her to work, and she 
died just the same. She’s a great old Sally 
W aters. What’s your machine’s name ? I don’t 
mean her make. I mean just her pet name.” 

“We haven’t named her yet,” began Polly, 
apologetically, but Ted interrupted. 

“We call her the Scooter.” 

“That’s bully. My sister Cary named this one 
for us because she’s temperamental like the far- 
famed Sally Waters. She sits in the sun and 
weeps, then rises and wipes her eyes, and turns 
to all points of the compass.” 

Polly stopped him with a little exclamation of 
surprise, her brown eyes wide with interest as she 
leaned forward. 

“Oh, I know you now. I’ve been wondering 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 205 


and wondering who you looked like. You’re 
Randy Dinwiddie, Cary’s brother, and I met you 
last Christmas at White Chimneys.” 

Randy turned a deeper red under the scrutiny 
from so many pairs of girls’ eyes, but smiled. 
He was tall like Cary and blonde, with blue eyes 
and a dark coat of tan. His motor togs were 
splashed with mud where he had crawled under 
the car, but in spite of this, he made a very manly 
and courtly appearance as Polly proceeded to 
introduce him to the whole party. 

“You’ve all been so mighty fine to us, we don’t 
know how to thank you,” he said, warmly. “Do 
we, fellows? These boys are friends of mine 
from Castlewood Cadet ‘Prep.’ Mr. Andrew 
Forbes, Mr. William Wolcott, and Mr. Ted Bur- 
dick.” 

Andy, Billie, and Ted acknowledged the intro- 
duction with all the grace possible under the cir- 
cumstances. 

“Is Cary down at Newport News?” Polly 
asked. “Because we’re going to drop in and see 
her at Sunnyside when we reach Richmond next 
Sunday.” 

“She’ll be home by then. We’re only running 
down for three days to meet Uncle Brock Cary. 


206 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


He comes in on one of the battleships, the Ken-- 
tucky, I think it is, Thursday morning, after a 
year and a half in the Pacific. We all want to 
be there to say hello to him, so it’s to be a grand 
clan meet of the Carys and Dinwiddies.” 

‘‘Grandfather knows him well. I’ll write and 
tell him he’s coming back,” Polly had forgotten 
all about the rain, and her face was shining with 
the glistening drops. “Isn’t it splendid we just 
happened to meet you, and the second day out, 
too?” 

“How long are you going to stand on top of 
this hill and exchange compliments and news, 
girls?” asked Miss Harmon firmly, putting her 
head out between the storm curtains. “It is get- 
ting on, and I see no chance of making any town 
in this downpour.” 

“There’s some kind of a house yonder,” one of 
the boys declared. “Looks like a deserted cabin 
and there’s a wagon shed we can run the machines 
under. It’s no use pushing through the roads 
until this lets up a little hit.” 

Patchin nodded his head in agreement, and 
they all went down the hill to the old weather- 
beaten cabin. The door hung loosely on one 
hinge, and the ceiling had fallen down here and 


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CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 207 


there leaving huge bald spots that Polly said at 
once made her think of the continents on relief 
maps. There was a great open fireplace across 
one side, blackened with soot and smoke, but very 
welcome to the drenched boys, and “the chilled 
members of the relief expedition,” as Randy 
called the girls. 

“We’d be at the bottom of that hill yet, if it 
hadn’t been for you,” he said. “Hustle in wood, 
fellows, and build a fire.” 

“Everything is wet through out in the sheds, so 
we took some slices off the side porch,” said Andy, 
coming in with a load of kindlings, with Bill 
treading solemnly on his heels with a huge log on 
one shoulder. “We’ll keep up the fire if you can 
find anything to cook on it.” 

Penelope was already unpacking her “nest” of 
aluminum kettles and dishes, and the girls 
brought in supplies from the machine. They 
were mostly what Polly called “tabloid food,” 
and butter and milk were both missing from the 
feast, yet it was a joyous one. The girls made 
up stacks of sandwiches with crackers and peanut 
butter, deviled ham, and pimento cheese, and for 
the crowning feature Miss Harmon gave them all 
delicious soup. 


208 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Chicken bouillon, with one package of noodles 
in it, and one can of peas strained and mashed. 
It needs a half cup of cream, but we must do 
without that. There’s cotFee on the hearth and a 
can of evaporated milk beside it, boys. And we 
have also four canteloupes to divide, fine, large, 
golden-netted ones given us by passing strangers 
this morning.” 

There was no table, but Patchin brought in the 
double blankets from the machine, and the boys 
found another in the roadster. These were 
spread out on the floor, and the party sat around 
Indian fashion, and enjoyed the feast. Towards 
its close Randy excused himself. When he re- 
turned he held his cap filled with cherries, large 
ox-hearts and white beauties. 

“There are heaps more. Miss Harmon,” he 
said, emptying the cap’s contents in Penelope’s 
lap. “I happened to see the tree as we came up 
the road. Come along, you cherry pickers now. 
It isn’t raining much.” 

“They’re nice boys, aren’t they?” Ted said, eat- 
ing the cherries happily, when the four guests 
had gone after more. “With brothers of my 
own, I know what boys can be when they take a 
notion.” 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 209 


“Cary’s brother would just have to be all 
right,” Polly answered, thoughtfully. “No, that 
isn’t a rap at you one bit, Ted. I never rap, 
don’t you know that? But Cary’s almost grown 
up, and she’s, oh, I don’t know how to tell you, 
but she’s eveything all the girls in books seem to 
be, and everybody loves her. When she looks at 
you you can’t talk much, just for watching 
her.” 

“Well, Randy doesn’t inherit the family beauty 
much,” Sue declared, “but he’s a nice boy, and a 
good cherry picker.” 

When the cherry pickers returned with a plen- 
tiful supply, Randy announced that it was really 
clearing off, you could see blue sky over beyond 
the hills. 

“I think we’d better go on if we’re to make any 
headway, but I wish we could do something to 
help make up for all this bother. Miss Harmon.” 

“You have paid me back,” Miss Harmon 
smiled up at him. “Aren’t we munching cherries 
this minute, and how would we have found the 
cabin if it hadn’t been for your guidance? We 
will look for you at Richmond next Sunday. 
The girls want to stay over for church service 
there, and motor out to see the Admiral at Mrs. 


210 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Langdon’s home in the afternoon, so we ought to 
reach Sunnyside about sundown.” 

“Let’s go to Sunnyside in the afternoon and 
out to Aunt Evelyn’s later, because she’ll be sure 
to insist on our staying over night at Robin’s 
Rest. Isn’t that a dear name for a house? I al- 
ways liked it when I was little. Besides,” here 
Polly’s tone grew very practical and businesslike, 
“we want to save hotel expenses. You know 
this is all our own undertaking, Randy. We 
are scouting for the State Roads’ Committee 
and earning our pwn way, so every hotel bill 
counts.” 

“I think you’re mighty plucky,” Billie Wolcott 
exclaimed fervently, his hands deep in his pockets. 
“My sisters have been sitting on a hotel veranda 
up in the Delaware Gap for two weeks, and there 
are six more to come. I know I’ll get seventeen 
different shades of crocheted silk neckties by the 
time they come home. I only wish they were 
working for a road committee.” 

“ ‘Each in his varying star,’ ” quoted Ted, 
promptly. 

“Each with her varying necktie, you mean,” 
Billie replied grimly. “Good-bye, anyhow.” 

“Give our love to Cary,” Polly called last of all 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 211 


when they stood about the low grey car and 
watched its crew pile in recklessly. “Even if we 
don’t all know her yet, tell her we will.” 

“We’ll tell her,” shouted back Randy, and as 
they rolled away, the yell of Castlewood floated 
back to the watchers at the cabin. 

“Boom! Get a rat trap, bigger than a cat 
trap. Boom! Get a rat trap, bigger than a cat 
trap. Boom-a-lacka, rigadoon, good, good, good. 
’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah! Castlewood!” 

“We haven’t any college yell,” Sue remarked 
reflectively when they returned to the cabin to 
gather up the lunch debris and wash the alumi- 
num dishes. “Miss Honoria said she didn’t ap- 
prove of them for girls; remember, Ted?” 

“Well, it seems to me that a good, healthy yell 
all together helps to foster the — the esprit de 
corps. Hear me, Polly? Attendee, sHl vous 
plait Ted spoke French very slowly and with 
much emphasis, as if it were Low Dutch. “Can’t 
we make up a class yell to keep up the proper 
class spirit? I don’t want a lot of Castlewood 
Cadets to get ahead of us that way. There we 
stood, like a row of clothes pins, and not a squeak 
in answer.” 

“Let’s think it over,” Polly suggested, as she 


212 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


washed cups at the old pump in the sink. “It 
must be very musical and well mannered or Miss 
Calvert will never own it, girls.” 

“But very rousing,” Ted insisted. “I guess 
I’ll have to make it up all myself to get the real 
proper inspiration in it.” 

“Never mind wandering away in a fine frenzy 
while there are dishes to do,” Sue warned. 
“That’s the way with inspired poets. Their 
frenzies happen so unexpectedly.” 

“Well, I don’t know how it is with other gen- 
iuses,” Ted replied cheerfully, “but I have to 
exercise a different set of muscles. Don’t you 
know when English composition day comes 
around how I always have to go up in the gym 
and fight it out there with Indian clubs?” 

Ted seized a fresh dish towel and wiped vigor- 
ously, all the time trying out different rhymes 
under her breath. 

“Hurry, girls, the sun is out, and Patchin says 
he will be ready in a minute,” called Miss Penel- 
ope. 

“But aren’t the roads all slushy?” Natalie 
stretched out her foot daintily like a cat, and drew 
it straight in again. 

“The rain has stopped any way, but we’ll need 


CAMPING OUT IN THE CABIN 213 


our coats. It feels cool and damp. Where’s 
Ted? She was here just a minute ago.” 

“Getting ready to take a picture of this crowd 
of gypsies I guess,” Polly returned. “Does that 
go with the official films, Ted?” 

Ted was outside waiting for them with the 
camera, and as they all came trooping out, she 
caught them neatly. 

“It could go in with the rest, for it certainly 
proves that even in stormy weather you are still 
out on scout duty,” said Miss Harmon. 

“I shall certainly send it to the Senator,” Ted 
declared, “as evidence of zeal under trying con- 
ditions, and it’s lucky it doesn’t show the remains 
of the feast. I wish I had a picture of that long, 
low rakish car too. Listen, now, to my Calvert 
yelk" 

And throwing back her head, she let out the 
first version of what afterward became famous 
in Calvert history, the “Polly yell”: 

“Zizz boom, Zizz boom, Zizz boom bah ! 

Calvert forever! *Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!” 

“Neat, concise, ladylike, expressive, and lends 
itself fully to the lung capacity,” declared Ted 
modestly. “How do you like it, girls? I pre- 


214 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


sent it to our honored president with my highest 
regard. And while we’re on the road if we want 
to change the Calvert, we may put in Polly in- 
stead.” 

“Ted, dear, you are a genius,” Sue exclaimed, 
proudly. “I always did stand up for you.” 

“You go to grass,” said Ted stoutly. “Polly, 
am I eccentric?” 

“I don’t know,” laughed Polly, climbing up to 
her seat in the car. “Remember, girls, when 
Crullers said she didn’t think the Doctor would 
make a good husband, as he was too concentric?” 

“Stop your chatter,” said Miss Harmon. 
“We have miles to go yet before we reach Ma- 
toax, and the roads are heavy. Climb in, all of 
you.” 

Polly was busy marking on her road map the 
site of the cabin. 

“Just as a refuge for others,” she said. “1 
called it the Wayside Inn,” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 

“This is really work,” Polly declared when 
they reached Matoax late that afternoon. Every 
ford had been noted and its condition and safety 
for crossing. Every house along the country 
roads, had been marked, every church and cross- 
roads, and even where there were supplies to be 
bought. Ted took pictures of all bad places in 
the road that needed mending, and one lone pullet 
had been nearly run over in its frantic flight 
across the way. So altogether it had been a 
strenuous day. 

Matoax looked very cheerful to the tired eyes 
of the travelers when they came upon it suddenly 
lying in a hollow between hills, as if it were held 
in a hand. 

There were mineral springs here that had been 
famous among the Indian tribes centuries ago, 
and before dinner at the hotel they all went up to 
have a drink from them. 


216 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


There was a large cavern with an iron grating 
across the entrance, and you had to pay toll to 
get in. From the rocky plateau where it was 
situated there was a splendid view out over the 
rolling country with its ever- varying verdure, and 
the glint of the York in the distance like gleam- 
ing quicksilver. 

There was a passage back in the cavern, which 
widened out into quite a fair-sized space, and 
in the center of this was the spring, bubbling up 
from the sand in a clear jet about two feet high. 
The sand around it moved and shifted constantly 
like the sands in an hour-glass, as if they were 
perpetually being sifted down and replenished. 

“Now this is the kind of mineral water I should 
have in my garden,’’ Polly said, tasting it slowly. 
‘T don’t like sulphur water very well, do you. 
Miss Pen?” 

“No, but it does you a lot of good,” laughed 
Miss Harmon. “I drank some abroad at the dif- 
ferent watering places, and it used to seem to me 
the worse the waters tasted the more popular the 
resort was, and the higher the rates. Drink 
plenty of it, girls. The Indians had a legend 
about this spring of Matoax. They believed it 
renewed strength and vigor. When a brave was 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 217 


weary or sick from wounds, they would bring him 
here, and lay him beside the spring, and lave his 
face and hands in the magic water. And you’ll 
all need plenty of energy if we keep forging 
ahead tonight.” 

“Oh, aren’t we going to stay here tonight?” 
pleaded Ted and Natalie in one breath. 

“The hotel is full of summer guests and rates 
are high,” Miss Harmon answered firmly. 
“They haven’t any double rooms, either. We 
can make the ferry in short order after dinner, 
and Patchin tells me of a town farther down the 
river that has not caught the summer colony fever 
yet.” 

“But we’re all so tired. Cousin Pen,” pleaded 
Hallie, leaning her head on Miss Harmon’s shoul- 
der. “And the hotel looks so clean and comfy. 
Couldn’t we stay just tonight?” 

“Hallie, you only tease me because you’re in 
my family and have no restraining respect,” in- 
sisted Miss Penelope. “You’ll be rested after 
dinner and it is the prettiest time of the day for 
motoring. We can reach Seabrooks by eight 
and it is well worth the extra exertion.” 

“Obey orders, comrades,” called Polly, hap- 
pily. “Shall we get more rations here, or wait 


218 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


for Seabrooks, Miss Pen? We haven’t much 
left after feeding those hungry boys.” 

‘‘We’ll replenish at Seabrooks tomorrow morn- 
ing. I have sent for some concentrated bouillon 
cubes and plenty of milk chocolate, and tomorrow 
we will try our first fireless cooked chicken which 
will give us more time on the road. We won’t 
have to put up for lunch, and we can probably 
buy some fruit and bread along the way. In 
Brittany I would stop at the little chocolate shops 
in the villages, and buy fresh hot rolls that tasted 
delicious after a long drive. They bake them 
about four of an afternoon, and the odor as you 
go along the street is so appetizing that it simply 
pulls you in to buy them.” 

“Don’t you miss your nap, Miss Pen?” Polly 
asked suddenly. “You’ve not had any today.” 

“I forgot all about it, we were so busy,” Miss 
Penelope replied laughing. “That proves it is 
not essential, doesn’t it?” 

“Let’s change into our white middy blouses 
for dinner here,” Natalie suggested. “I can hear 
music starting up,” as they neared the hotel in 
its grove of locusts. 

“It looks festal to me,” Ted agreed, eyeing the 
broad verandas speculatively. There were small 


iTHE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 219 


tables on them, and vari-colored electric lights 
hidden in the thick vines. 

Later when the girls came demurely in, all in 
white, very unlike the tramps of the afternoon, 
the little party attracted considerable attention, 
for somehow the news of their undertaking had 
spread. 

“No giggles, girls,” Sue warned. “Be on your 
dignity for the honor of Queen’s Ferry and Cal- 
vert.” 

Patchin waited outside for them. They 
wrapped up in their warm woolen cloaks as there 
was a decided tang of coolness in the air after the 
rain. Polly had the start of the others and had 
been looking over the machine. 

“We’ve got a new name for her,” she told the 
others. “I have just discovered that she has to 
be fed on oil, gasoline, and water all the time or 
she refuses to go ahead. It seems that poor Mr. 
Patchin has to keep one eye on the radiator, gaso- 
line tank, and oil reservoir, and the other on the 
road. So we call her Henrietta.” 

“Henrietta?” repeated Ted. “Sounds har- 
monious. We could sing words to it on the way 
along. But I don’t see — ” 

“Henrietta,” explained Polly impressively. 


220 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘'worked for the Senator in Washington as cook, 
and just so often, Mr. Patchin says, she would 
collapse and declare her own cooking wearied her, 
and she needed ‘coaxing victuals, or she couldn’t 
go a step further.’ Therefore we call this after 
Henrietta.” 

“Oh, do you think she is fed enough now, Mr. 
Patchin?” inquired the girls in an anxious chorus. 

“Enough for a starter, if she doesn’t get tem- 
peramental,” answered Patchin. 

But Henrietta behaved with great restraint 
and moderation during the twelve-mile run down 
to the river bank, and rested on the ferry. It 
was beautifully picturesque on the old river with 
the afterglow still shining in the western sky, 
throwing a rose haze over land and water. The 
ride from the south bank down to Seabrooks was 
an easy one, following the river until the lights 
of the town appeared about six miles down. 

Patchin drew up at the railroad crossing and 
asked the old flagman the name of the best hotel 
to put up at overnight. He was leaning back 
in a wooden chair against the side of his sentinel 
box, thumbs hooked in his vest armholes, dozing 
lightly until the big lights of the machine blazed 
two paths in front of him. 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 221 


“You go straight ahead until you come to the 
barber pole,” he answered slowly, “then you turn 
to the right and go along ’til you come to the drug 
store, can’t miss its colored lights, you know. 
Then you turn to the left and you’ll find Mrs. 
Crispin’s Roanoke House, good enough for any 
one.” 

And the girls agreed with him later, after Mrs. 
Crispin had conducted them to their rooms, and 
fluttered over them like a mother hen. She was 
plump and rosy-cheeked, dressed in snow white 
linen, with white hair curled in puff s on each side 
of her face, and when she was a bit excited, the 
puffs escaped from their confining hairpins, and 
dangled tremulously. 

“You’d better all take a good hot bath after 
being out in this rain all day,” she said. “I’ll 
bring up some mustard to put in the water too, 
and hot ginger tea for you all to drink when 
you’re ready for bed. Yes, I will now. It isn’t 
a bit of trouble.” 

The girls sat speechless looking at each other 
as she hurried downstairs. 

“We’ll have to take it or hurt her feelings,” 
Polly said resolutely. “You go first, Ted. 
You’re always so anxious for new experiences.” 


222 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘T mustn’t, Polly,” Ted replied. “You’re the 
president of the club, and it wouldn’t be correct 
for any member to take precedence over the presi- 
dent.” 

“Who’s afraid,” laughed Polly, wrapping her 
blanket around her like a squaw’s, and leading the 
way to the hot mustard bath. When she came 
back, she had the bowl of ginger tea, and was very 
pink looking, Natalie said. 

“Anyhow, girls,” she told them, sitting cross- 
legged on the foot of her bed, “I’m all through 
with the ordeal. Now, march ahead like good 
soldiers and take your medicine.” 

“It’s not the bath I mind, it’s this ginger tea,” 
Sue spluttered helplessly. “And I never catch 
cold, never. No fair sprinkling yours out the 
window, Hallie. I can see you making believe 
to admire the moon over there. Guess we’ll all 
remember Seabrooks.” 

Miss Harmon declared it was splendid treat- 
ment for them even though a little heroic, and 
there were no sjonptoms of cold the following 
morning. They had all slept delightfully. Mrs. 
Crispin’s snowy beds were draped in canopies of 
pink mosquito netting and resembled royal 
couches. Polly and Miss Harmon rose early and 


tTHE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 223 


bought new supplies, for theirs had been pretty 
well depleted by the impromptu luncheon they 
had given at the cabin. One of their purchases 
was a chicken. Mrs. Crispin cooked it for 
them to the boiling point before it was packed 
away in the fireless cooker to “steep,” as Ted 
said. 

“First time I’ve ever had steeped chicken,” she 
remarked, helping Polly to cover it and tuck it 
away in the cooker which was strapped on the 
running-board beside the refrigerator basket. 
“Now, lemons and sugar for lemonade, and bread. 
Who’s got the bread and butter, girls?” 

“I have,” Sue answered, right at her elbow. 
“We bought freshly baked raised biscuit from 
Mrs. Crispin this morning. We’ve got plenty of 
fruit and Miss Pen’s gone after peas and potato 
chips. We’ll buy fresh corn along the way, she 
said.” 

“How’ll we cook it?” asked Natalie. 

“You have never camped out, Nat, or you’d 
never worry over what you were going to cook 
things in. We’ll probably use the water pail and 
make it a gypsy camp.” 

“You struck the right note there. Sue,” Polly 
exclaimed. “We could have a real gypsy camp. 


224 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


We’ll keep our eyes open for a good shady grove 
where it looks cool — ” 

‘‘Pines preferred,” added Ted. 

“And running water. It will save stopping 
anywhere for lunch, Miss Pen, and we want to 
make Richmond by Saturday.” 

“Well, it’s mighty funny about the distance to 
Richmond,” Sue interposed in her rather stolid 
way. “I was talking to Mrs. Crispin’s boy this 
morning, and he said he had made the run from 
Richmond to Old Point Comfort in two hours 
and a half, and had not run over any pigs or 
chickens either.” 

“Don’t be so indignant. Sue,” Miss Penelope 
replied, laughing. “He probably did make the 
run in that time. So could we if we wanted to, 
but we are intersecting and crisscrossing all the 
country lying between the rivers, and every stop 
takes time. We had to come roundabout in the 
very beginning to get around the river where they 
had no ferry, remember. The roads are in fair 
condition, but there are missing links here and 
there, and we are reporting each one. The direct 
route from Richmond to Old Point Comfort has 
had nearly $10,000 spent on it in the last two 
years, so it should show results. Nearly every- 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 225 


body coming down uses the Valley Road, the 
Senator says, but it is roundabout. I think you 
want to speed up Henrietta, Sue.” 

Sue sighed, staring at the road ahead of them. 

‘T can’t bear to have any one get ahead of us.” 

“There speaks your trueborn ‘scooter,’ ” Polly 
teased. “We’re workers, Ted, and we mustn’t 
mind how the other cars slip by us. This is just 
like land surveying, and today we’ll go through 
the Indian country, won’t we. Miss Pen?” 

They started from Seabrooks, fully equipped 
for the day’s run. The fords were swollen from 
the rain and the roads still somewhat muddy. 
Several times Patchin stopped short, and had to 
use a little persuasion to induce “Henrietta” to 
fulfil her duties. 

Once a runabout caught up with them and its 
lone occupant asked what had brought them so 
far out of their way from the Valley Pike. 

“My home’s farther down along the river, or 
I’d never travel this side at all. Can I help you 
out any?” 

“I don’t think so, much obliged, though,” Pat- 
chin replied good-naturedly. “We’re scouting 
along these crosscuts for the committee. Is the 
road any better past Richmond?” 


226 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘Tine and dandy,” the stranger said warmly. 
“That’s where they’ve done real work. How far 
have you traveled? Better come along after me 
and visit. We’d be glad to have you.” 

“Thanks, no. We’d better push along. 
We’ve come from Queen’s Ferry. Ran up-state 
to avoid the river as it was, and made a detour to 
reach Creighton Courthouse. The ferry wasn’t 
working on the river. There’s only one ferry- 
man and he was down with rheumatism, so it took 
us about thirty miles out of our way, more or 
less, going around the ridge.” 

“I didn’t know all that,” whispered Sue to 
Polly. “Patchin must have found it out before 
we even started.” 

The stranger in the runabout looked back over 
his shoulder at the far-off rim of grey-blue moun- 
tains. 

“Why didn’t you take the Valley Pike?” he 
asked again. “My grandfather used to tell me 
about the old Telegraph Road from Washington 
down to Fredericksburg, I think he said. It 
wasn’t kept up much after the war. Reckon it 
was about the best short-cut there was, too. I’d 
risk those boys finding the quickest way down. 
Sorry you don’t feel like coming home with 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 227 


me. Peach shortcake for dinner, and whipped 
cream.” 

“We are sorry too,” called the girls as he went 
on ahead, chuckling. “That’s the first real invi- 
tation we’ve had,” added Polly. “It seems good 
to be wanted somewhere.” 

All the way along the beautifully shaded roads 
Miss Harmon told them about the early days of 
the colony, how the colonists gradually spread up 
from Jamestown along the fertile banks of the 
two rivers, the James and the York, and of the 
haughty “Heads of Hundreds,” who might wear 
gold on their coats. 

They had studied it in their early colonial his- 
tory at the Hall, but traveling through the heart 
of the country made it real and vital to them. 

“And besides,” Ted said, “it all sounds differ- 
ent when we’re right here on the ground, dis- 
cussing it together. I never can get the real pic- 
ture fixed in my mind by just reading over dates. 
Tell some more, please. Miss Pen.” 

“Do you know the first name given to the tide- 
water stretch of land all along the coast of Vir- 
ginia and North Carolina? It was Winganda- 
coa, and means ‘the good land.’ Think of those 
two brave ships, girls, that sailed out from Eng- 


228 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


land to explore these new coasts of chance. In 
1585 I think it was, but I forget the exact 
date. They followed the coast line all the way 
up from Florida and came to anchor off what is 
now North Carolina. It was called ‘Axacan’ 
then, a little Indian kingdom. I can remember 
that, for my first horse’s name was Axacan.” 

“Was that when they all died or were captured. 
Miss Pen?” asked Natalie, eagerly. “There was 
one little white girl born there, and they called 
her Virginia. I used to wonder and wonder 
about her, for the records only say that she dis- 
appeared. When the ship returned from Eng- 
land, everybody was dead in the settlement, and 
they found only a strange word carved on a rock, 
‘Croatan.’ Do you know what it meant?” 

Penelope shook her head, smiling. 

“You’re ahead of me, Natalie, on your data. I 
can get a bird’s-eye view of it all, but I forget the 
dates and details.” 

Sue had been silent, but now she announced 
hopefully. 

“I know that Chesapeake means the Mother of 
Waters, and the Bermudas are the scene of ‘The 
Tempest,’ and the colony there was mighty kind 
to the colony here.” 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 229 


‘‘Next, Ted, can you tell anything?” asked 
Miss Penelope. 

“I don’t know any dates at all,” Ted said 
flatly, *‘but I know all the Indian seasons. They 
used to call the winters ‘cohonks’ and they got the 
word from the cry of the gild geese flying south. 
And they held five great feasts of the seasons too. 
The Budding, the Corn Eating, the Highest 
Sun—” 

“We’ll be right in the middle of those last two 
today,” Polly interrupted. “Do go on, Ted. 
It’s dandy. I don’t see how you can remember 
it all.” 

“Autumn was the Call of the Leaf, and winter 
Cohonks,” Ted finished in triumph. “Now, don’t 
any of you say I can’t remember history. I 
never liked dates either, but the fancy touches 
always stay put. Remember, girls, how old Cap- 
tain Carey up at Lost Island used to say we 
never’d stay put? The Indians down here had 
three great festivals each year, too, the coming of 
the wild fowl, the return of the hunting season, 
and the great corn gathering. Then at the peace 
feast all old fires were put out and new ones 
built, and all crimes excepting murder were par- 
doned.” 


230 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Well, Edwina,” exclaimed Sue, solemnly. 
“I never really respected you until this minute. 
Did you make any of that up ?” 

“Where did you learn it, Ted?” Polly asked. 
“Is it all true?” 

“See how they doubt me. Miss Pen,” Ted ap- 
pealed. “Of course it’s true. I got it from an 
old history of father’s. Can’t you remember any 
of those old legends and stories, Polly?” 

Polly shook her head, a gleam of fun in her 
eyes. 

“I only liked the ones about Pocahontas and 
the queens of tribes. I know one was the Queen 
of Appomattock, and Grandfather has an old 
colored wood engraving of her going into battle. 
Another empress held the shore tribes under trib- 
ute, and they used to go up twice a year to where 
she held her court, just a wrinkled, brown old 
woman holding all those wild warriors under her 
thumb.” 

“That’s Polly’s imperial instinct showing 
forth,” said Ted. “Hallie, are you going to 
sleep?” 

Before Hallie could answer there was a loud 
report like a gun from one of the back tires, and 
the girls screamed. 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 231 

“Just a blow out,” Miss Harmon called, re- 
assuringly. “Sit down, all of you. We should 
have put on the chains over this strange road, 
Patchin. Shall you need any help?” 

Patchin said no, he would fix the tire himself, 
if they pleased ; so they all alighted, and set off to 
explore what seemed to be a timber road which 
looked invitingly green and shady. It was get- 
ting very warm although they had made an early 
start. After a walk of half a mile or so, they 
came to a lake. It lay so placid and still beneath 
the sky that the reflections of the great fleecy 
clouds, coming up from the west in endless pro- 
cession like some majestic flotilla, seemed as per- 
fect as the real ones overhead. 

A few startled wild birds flew up at their ap- 
proach. One dignified old gentleman of a crane, 
standing on the exact edge of an island in the dis- 
tance, refused to be disturbed. He never budged 
from his station, but seemed to watch them lazily, 
speculatively perhaps, but without resentment. 
Along the old half -submerged logs, rows and 
rows of turtles sunned themselves, and water lilies 
with pink-edged leaves lay languidly in the shal- 
lows where it was shady. On every side rose the 
wooded green hills, overlapping each other, and 


232 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


far out in the tall reeds and water grasses were 
other little islands. 

“Oh, girls, what a place for a camp,” exclaimed 
Polly. “There has been one on the beach here, I 
think. There are ashes here and tin cans, and 
old fish poles. I do wish we’d brought our bath- 
ing suits.” She plunged into the bushes, and 
pulled out the fishpoles, wound around with lines, 
and the hooks neatly stuck in the poles. 

“I’ll go back for your suits, girls,” Hallie vol- 
unteered. “I’d love to. Cousin Pen, you’ll 
come too, won’t you?” 

“Now I’m divided in loyalty,” Penelope began, 
but the girls assured her they would be all right 
and safe, so she and Hallie retraced their steps 
after the bathing outfits. Ted began deliberately 
to take off her shoes and stockings. 

“The boys turn up rocks and stones in the 
water and find funny looking, crawly things they 
call Dobsons,” she said. “My brothers use them 
for bait, and if we can find any now, we can fish. 
It’s too bad to waste time.” 

“We’ll all hunt Dobsons with you, Ted,” re- 
turned Polly soothingly. “I rather like their 
name. It sounds so respectable.” 

So they all waded out into the shallow water. 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 233 


catching the queer crawfish-like Dobsons. Ted 
agreed to put them on the hooks. Natalie pro- 
tested openly with a shudder. 

‘T can’t do that part. They look as if they 
knew more than worms, some how. I think they 
ought to be chloroformed, Ted.” 

“No, Dobsons are courageous. Don’t put 
your fingers in your ears, goose. They don’t 
squeal.” Ted went calmly on with her baiting. 
“All ready now, and let’s see who catches the first 
fish.” 

They cast out their lines, and sat waiting re- 
sults, all excepting Polly, who tried trolling up 
and down the bank. It seemed to grow warmer 
every minute there in the sunlight, but they per- 
severed, although Dobsons seemed the favorite 
morning luncheon of only a frantic swarm of 
minnows. 

All at once there came an audible chuckle from 
the opposite side of the bank. The girls all 
looked around, and there, peering at them from 
the tall reeds, was a perfect Topsy head. Its 
owner wriggled out like an Indian and sat up. 
She was in bright pink calico. Even her black 
kinks of hair were tied tightly with narrow pink 
ribbon. There she had been lying flat on her 


234 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


stomach kicking her heels in the air, and watching 
them through lazy, mischievous lashes. 

“Hello, have you been fishing too?” called 
Polly, in friendly fashion. 

“No’m. Dar ain’t no fish ter ketch till it gits 
cool — ’ceptin’ punkin seed, an’ dey jes’ snatches 
at de bait and skips.” 

“Perfectly true, girls, look here,” cried Ted, 
holding up her line with its empty hook. “The 
‘punkin seed’ are holding a Dobson banquet. 
What’s your name, honey?” 

“Name’s Annie Louisa Biall,” answered the 
little girl. “Mammy calls me Annie Lou for 
short.” 

“Where do you live, Annie Lou?” asked Polly. 

“Up at Fair View, Missus Wimbledon’s place. 
See dat hill?” pointing across the lake. “Well, 
dat ain’t de one, but it’s behind dat one, an’ you 
turn up a road wif two high stone posts in front 
of it.” 

“But what are you doing away over here?” 

“Ah jes’ followed you all along ter see what 
you gwine ter do,” innocently. “Ah hyar dat big 
’splosion, den Ah come ter find out all about yo’. 
My manuny and Miss Wimbledon, dey alius like 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 235 


ter know what strange folkses are prowlin’ 
’round,” 

“Are we fishing in Mrs. Wimbledon’s lake, and 
will she care?” asked Polly. 

Annie Lou shook her head contentedly, chew- 
ing on a long blade of grass. 

“She doan’t mind. She’s sittin’ in a chair all 
day long, and de best thing she likes in all de 
world is company. She’d like ter have you all 
come up an’ see her. She’s ole Colonel Wimble- 
don’s widow, and my Mammy’s her special maid, 
and Ah’m her second maid. Dey ain’t no more 
help only Joe in de garden.” 

“I see,” Polly answered, meeting the other 
girls’ eyes and finding the same thought expressed 
in them as in her own mind. “Well, listen, 
Annie Lou. We want to have a swim in the 
lake, and when we get through, we’ll come over 
the hill to Fair View, and call on Mrs. Wimble- 
don. Will you be our messenger and tell her? 
Say that we’re a scouting party sent out by the 
roads committee, and that we’re working under 
orders from Senator Yates. Can you remember 
that?” 

“Some of it,” Annie Lou said truthfully, blink- 


236 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


ing and parting her lips in a wide happy grin. 
“She’ll be glad to see you all anyhow.” 

After the bare brown heels had vanished over 
the edge of the bank, Sue exclaimed : 

“Polly, how can we all go visiting, and what 
will Patchin think?” 

“We’ll take him along and the machine, of 
course. Didn’t we have to get rid of Annie Lou 
before we could go in swimming?” Polly argued, 
laughingly. “Besides, it will be a new adventure, 
and as real ladies of the road, we can’t aff ord to 
pass by any adventure. I’m going to change my 
name to Donna Quixote.” 

“Why do I think of windmills,” Ted mur- 
mured thoughtfully. “Don’t you dare go tilting 
off hand unless you’re sure you’re right. Madam 
President, because we’ve got so much faith in 
your judgment, you know, and so much affection 
for you, as it were, that we’ll all tilt where you 
tilt.” 

“But if the old lady is really sick, and likes 
company — ” began PoUy. 

“It’s an act of charity to go to her, even if we 
are all just as anxious as we can be to see the lady 
of Fair View and her colonial retreat,” Ted 
teased. “But we will foUow, won’t we, girls?” 


THE LADY OF FAIR VIEW 237 


“Follow where to?’’ asked Miss Harmon cheer- 
ily, as she climbed up the bank, Hallie behind her, 
bearing the swimming suits, caps, and towels. 
“What have you been planning the minute my 
back is turned?” 

They told her eagerly, all talking at once, as 
they dressed behind clumps of bushes, until she 
declared she could not hear a distinct word, but 
after the cool, refreshing plunge into the quiet 
lake, she listened during the walk back through 
the woods, and agreed that it would be part of 
the day’s work, and pleasure too, to pay a call 
on Annie Lou’s lady in the arm-chair. 


i 


CHAPTER XV 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 

The new tire was on, and “Henrietta” ready 
to start by the time they reached the main road. 
The only direction they could give Patchin for 
finding Fair View was what Annie Lou had told 
them. It lay just past one hill on the next hill. 
So they ran leisurely along the road that circled 
the base of the hill, and sure enough when they 
came to the next one, they found the private en- 
trance turning in to the left. Stone pillars over- 
run with wild trumpet vine and creepers stood at 
each side. 

“I’m sure this is right,” said Polly confidently. 
“It goes up this other hill, and it’s certainly very 
private.” 

“Supposing that Mrs. Wimbledon doesn’t ex- 
pect us, or doesn’t want us to visit her?” sug- 
gested Ted thoughtfully. “Maybe that Annie 
Lou is a false prophet, and we’re plain everyday 
trespassers.” 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 239 


“Look at her waiting for us ypnder,” Polly 
answered, reproachfully, pointing to a lone figure 
coming down the road. “Does she look like a 
false prophet?” 

“Indeed she doesn’t,” exclaimed Miss Har- 
mon merrily. “I think she is a herald bearing 
gifts.” 

Annie Lou had been hastily incased in a fresh 
pinafore even pinker than the first, and “per- 
fectly brand span clean,” as she told them hap- 
pily, her smile wider than ever. 

“Dis ain’t mah fav’rite pinnyfore,” she said 
holding it out on each side, as they stopped be- 
side her. “Mah fav’rite one’s plaid, and dat’s 
mah fav’rite color too, plaid. I jes’ rushed ter 
get dis on before you all came, an’ Missus Wim- 
bledon, she’s all perked up waiting for yo’. She 
certainly loves company.” 

“Don’t you want to hop in with us, and ride 
up?” asked Patchin, in his slow, good-natured 
way. Annie Lou graciously accepted the invita- 
tion and was helped up to the front seat. It was 
her first experience in a machine, and her round 
eyes opened to their widest capacity as they sped 
up the driveway. She gripped the edge of the 
seat, but not a sound did she make to show that 


240 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


she was scared. All the pride of the house of 
Wimbledon was in her endurance. 

The road led uphill through a beautiful old 
grove of locusts and elms, and at last, standing 
back amongst them in stately splendor. Fair View 
came into sight. As Polly said afterwards, it 
looked as if it might have been “somebody’s head- 
quarters,” and Mrs. Wimbledon told them all 
later how Tarleton had seized it years back and 
held it for several weeks while one of her an- 
cestresses indignantly held her own court in a far 
wing of the house, refusing even to speak to the 
invader. 

The car drew up before the spacious entrance 
with its fine Colonial doorway and white arch 
above. The doors stood wide in silent greeting. 
Annie Lou led the way with many a backward 
glance and smile of encouragement. The great 
center hall that divided the house seemed rather 
silent and bare. On either side were tall closed 
doors with old cut glass and silver handles, the 
latter badly dented and tarnished but none the 
less silver. 

A few clusters of flowers stood here and there, 
and before the wide open fireplace were tall ferns 
in abundance, freshly gathered. 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 241 


“She ain’t in hyar,” said Annie Lou, in a 
hushed tone. “She’s yonder on de back po’ch.” 

It was a broad, shady porch, as large and 
imposing as the one in front, with the same 
colonnaded support, overrun with a perfect 
tanglewood of vines that clambered and inter- 
twined unchecked clear to the upper story. 
Here in this cool retreat, the girls paid their court 
to the mistress of Fair View. 

They had expected to find some tall and very 
dignified grand dame, but the slender old lady in 
the old-fashioned high backed rocker, who held 
out her hand in greeting, was not one bit like the 
picture. The hand fairly trembled with eager- 
ness, and it was fine and blue-veined, colored like 
old ivory. Her eyes were very bright and dark, 
her hair iron grey and waved thickly back from 
her face. She did not look patient, either, the 
girls said later among themselves. She was an 
invalid, having been hurt years before in a fall 
from a favorite horse, but her face was full of 
restless eagerness still to be up and doing her 
share of the world’s activities. 

“My dears, this is kind of you to seek out an 
exile, just a sick irritable old woman, to please 
her whim. Little Annie Lou heard the noise 


242 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


when your tire burst, and came running in fear 
to tell me of it, so I sent her to make an off er of 
shelter and assistance. I hope she proved a good 
messenger.’’ 

“She surely did,” Miss Harmon replied smil- 
ingly. “And we think it is you who are most 
kind to take pity on a lot of wayfarers this warm 
day. May I manage the introductions, or will 
you, Polly?” 

Polly, a little flushed over the responsibility of 
being President, performed the introductions 
safely, and each of the girls bent over the thin 
white hand that welcomed them as guests. 
Annie Lou had disappeared, but after they were 
seated, and hats put to one side, she reappeared 
with her mother, bearing trays of cool refresh- 
ments. 

They sat for almost an hour, visiting with Mrs. 
Wimbledon, and telling her of their trip, and the 
two previous ones to Lost Island and the ranch 
in Wyoming. 

“When you feel that you would like to, I hope 
you will go through the Hall,” she told them 
finally. “I only wish that I might show you all 
its charms. I am the very last of the Wimble- 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 243 


dons on the distaff side, and am but a sorry sur- 
vivor of a gallant old line. Aunt Martha will 
show you over the house in my stead.’’ 

“Oh, Miss Pen, did you hear her telling me of 
all the famous people who have been guests here 
years ago?” Polly said, as they followed Martha’s 
portly form up the staircase. “Generals and 
Majors and Presidents. Alexander Hamilton 
visited here and the Marquis de Lafayette. 
There is a portrait in the upper hall of Dorothea 
Wimbledon whom the Marquis declared the 
sweetest maid he had met in all Virginia.” 

“I can see her now,” called Ted from the top- 
most turn of the staircase. “Oh, girls, she’s a 
darling, truly she is.” 

They stood without speaking for a minute un- 
der the old full-length painting of the girl so 
near their own ages. She held her satin skirts 
daintily on each side, as if ready to take a de- 
scending step on the old staircase, evidently the 
same one which they had just come up. Her 
face was brimming over with the awakening joy 
of life. Her lips were parted in a tantalizing, 
provocative smile of mirth, her chin cleft by a 
dimple, her eyes fairly dancing with merriment 


244 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


and mischief. She seemed almost on the point 
of opening her lijDs and welcoming them, her first 
youthful visitors in years. 

‘‘Dorothea, you are a dear,” Polly said, seri- 
ously. “I don’t wonder at all that the Marquis 
admired you. Did you dance the minuet to- 
gether, and feel all fluttery and excited when he 
bent his head and whispered, ‘Ah, Mistress Doro- 
thea, thou art the fairest, sweetest maid I have 
found in all my travels in thy land’?” 

“Hear Polly make believe,” teased Sue, yet 
she stretched out her hand, and danced the minuet 
in stately step down the long corridor, holding 
Polly’s hand. 

All through the upper chambers there was a 
curious air of readiness, as if for expected guests. 
Fresh flowers were on the old-fashioned ma- 
hogany dressers and highboys. None of the 
furniture was swathed in linen covers. The beds 
were made up in spotless coverlids and long, lace- 
edged linen bolster slips. 

“Mis’ Wimbledon likes it dis way,” said Mar- 
tha gently. “Dis is de ole Colonel’s room. He 
alius liked sweet peas ’round. His desk’s yon- 
der jes’ as he left it. De room ’cross de hall is 
young Marse Carleton’s room. He’s been out 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 245 


west a long time, but Ah reckon we’ll see him 
come along one oh dese days.” 

“Doesn’t he like Fair View?” asked Polly im- 
pulsively. 

“Yas’m, he do like it, but way out west he’s 
tryin’ ter get lots ob money to run it like it use 
to was when de Colonel was alive. An’ Ah guess 
dere’s a li’l gal he’s courtin’, too, an’ she doan’t 
wanter come way down hyar nohow,, and he 
won’t give up Fair View, so it goes.” 

“I’m glad he won’t leave his mother and Fair 
View,” Natalie said. “And if the girl really 
loves him, she’ll come, won’t she. Miss Pen?” 

“Well, she’ll have to, if she gets young Marse 
Carleton. Fair View is jes’ woven right in de 
warp and woof ob his life same as all de Wim- 
bledons.” Martha spoke serenely and with dig- 
nity. Polly said afterwards she knew Aunt 
Martha had no opinion at all of the western girl 
who wanted Marse Carleton without Fair View. 

Room after room they passed through. There 
was the stately guest chamber with its canopied 
bed, and little candle stand, a fresh bouquet of 
honeysuckle and late roses in a tall silver-glaze 
vase upon it. Another room that looked, as Sue 
said, “resty” was all in pink chintz, with satiny 


246 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


wall paper covered with clambering roses. The 
chairs were low, and had deep frills around them, 
and the little dressing table was covered with all 
manner of baby trinkets and toilet articles. 

‘‘Why, it looks like a little girl’s room,” cried 
Hallie. “There are even some toys here too.” 

“Dis is Miss Rosamond’s room,” explained 
Martha. “De Missus when she cum hyar a bride 
took dis li’l room, and put all her own baby and 
childish toys in it, jes’ like you see it now. Ah 
cum along too dat time, when she was a bride. 
She was Miss Virginia Fairfax, and she alius 
saved up her belongin’s ’spectin’ some day she’s 
gwine ter hah a daughter. And sho’ nuf, it cum 
true. First Marse Carleton, and bymeby Miss 
Rosamond. Means rose oh de world, Rosamond. 
An’ de rose only lasted one summer.” She 
ended softly, and no one asked a single question 
about the sunny rose tinted little room. Its 
whole story lay in her few words, and the girls 
went out softly, and closed the door. 

After they had finished looking at the house 
indoors, Martha led them out to the gardens to 
ramble, while Miss Penelope talked to Mrs. 
Wimbledon. Annie Lou had been sitting wait- 
ing very patiently for them to emerge, and now 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 247 


she watched her chance and sidled up to Polly. 

“Got sumfin down cellar to show you all. 
Make yo’ ha’r stand right up on end.” Her 
dark eyes rolled with fun. “Missus won’t mind 
nohow.” 

She led the way through the open cellar doors 
under a lattice of vines. It was cool and clean 
in the whitewashed interior, and Annie Lou led 
them on through several divisions, never stop- 
ping until she came to a heavy oak door with 
strange old hand-wrought iron clamps and 
hinges on it. They descended about five steps 
into a subcellar from here, and Annie Lou waited 
to light a lantern. 

“How much farther?” asked Ted, suspiciously. 

“Jes’ yonder,” Annie Lou replied in a whisper. 
“Jes’ right along hyar ter de next do’r.” 

Twenty yards more, and they came to it, solid 
oak and iron clamped like the first. She pointed 
to it, her eyes shining in the semi-darkness like 
sparks of fire. 

“What is it, Annie Lou, ghosts?” asked Polly 
gaily. 

''Five ghosts,” corrected Annie Lou proudly. 
“An’ all in red coats. Dey come ridin’ along 
one day hyar, lookin’ for somebody at de Hall 


248 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


way back in Independence war time, and nobody 
was hyar but mah great-great-great-great- 
great — ” 

“Annie Louisa, you stick to facts,” warned 
Ted. 

“Yas’m,” grinned back Annie Lou de- 
lightedly. “Mah great-great-great-great-great 
grandma it was. Name was Lucinda, an’ her 
young missus was Miss Jessamy Wimbledon. 
An’ upstairs in de garret hid away in de ole 
clothes press was a — a — young gentlemun wif a 
message for de great General George Washing- 
ton.” 

“Lovely,” exclaimed the girls. “Tell more, 
Annie Lou.” 

“An’ — an’ Mis’ Jessamy she’s mighty afraid 
dey gwine ter find him, and she’s sorter sweet on 
him too. So she tells de red sojers she’ll show 
dem all over, an’ she makes believe she’s terr’ble 
’fraid when dey comes along down hyar. An’ 
she beg, and she beg dat dey don’t open dat do’r 
yonder. So, course dey smashes it right in, and 
plunges ahead, and it’s all dark inside, and dey 
all drap down kerplunk in de ole cistern. Den 
she jes’ ca’mly shuts de do’r and bolts it, and goes 
upstairs. An’ bymeby comes along some more 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 249 


sojers in red coats, and she tells ’em de oder 
gentlemun took a yomig man prisoner and rode 
’long to Richmond wif him.” 

“Forevermore,” exclaimed Polly, “and what 
about the five down in the cistern?” 

“Dat’s all,” finished Annie Lou simply. “She 
got awful sick, and had de fever, and when she 
gets well, she don’t ’member nuffin, and she mar- 
ries de nice young man wif de message for General 
George Washington, and long time after dey’s 
bofe dead somebody opens up de ole cistern, and 
finds skeletons in red coats, Y as’m, and de gentle- 
mun ain’t got reconciled to it yet. When de 
leaves begin to tumble down and de wind blows, 
de voices cum up from de cellar in de night 
time.” 

“What do they say, Annie Lou?” asked Sue 
eagerly. 

“Dey say,” Annie Lou gathered all her lung 
force and let out a wild yell, “Lemme out! 
Lemme out! Lemme out!” 

She turned with the lantern and fled back 
along the passageway, leaving the girls to shiver 
and grope up to the sunlight. 

“You wait till I catch you,” said Polly, laugh- 
ingly, finding two pensive eyes watching her 


250 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


from the cellar steps. “Telling us ghost stories 
till we were all gooseflesh.” 

“Doan’t tell Missus,” coaxed Annie Louisa. 
“Ah was jes’ a foolin’.” 

“We won’t if you let us take your picture,” 
promised Polly, and, permission being granted 
very promptly, a snapshot was taken of Lucinda’s 
great-great-great-great-great grandchild stand- 
ing back against a mass of hollyhocks, grinning 
widely and innocently, as if she had never told a 
ghost story in all her life. 

It was close to noon when they left Fair View. 
Although Mrs. Wimbledon pressed them to re- 
main for lunch, they went on, remembering the 
work ahead as well as the chicken in the fireless 
cooker. But they bore away with them besides 
many happy memories, and piles of ears of sweet 
corn heaped in the car. Miss Harmon had said 
it was all they lacked, and asked where she could 
purchase some, but the Colonel’s widow would 
not listen to guests purchasing anything from 
Fair View, and Joe was sent down to the corn- 
field after the best ears he could find. 

“I don’t feel as if we had wasted the morning,” 
Polly said, when they were on the road again. 
“It has been dandy, and I know we helped Mrs. 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 251 


Wimbledon have a happy day of it. Let’s mark 
down Fair View on the road map just off the 
main road as a historic spot, and then she’ll have 
other visitors.” 

About half past twelve they came to a grove 
that held the darker green of pines among its 
many trees. A brook rambled in gypsy fashion 
down the upland pasture at one side. There 
were a lot of cows grazing, but, as Ted, said, they 
only made nice touches of local color on the land- 
scape. 

“This is regular brigand fashion,” Miss Har- 
mon told them, when they had started to get din- 
ner. Martha had given them a deep tin pail, 
wide at the top, narrow towards the bottom, and 
they hung it over a fire on rocks, from a crosswise 
pole. Patchin had helped put it up so it would 
be steady. The chicken was all ready, but the 
corn had to be cooked, and Hallie and Natalie 
were busy husking it. 

“You know,” she went on, helping Polly set 
the tablecloth on the ground under the pines, 
“the old poet of the Sierras, Joaquin Miller, used 
to hold brigand feasts in his wonderful canyons 
around ‘The Heights’ out near Oakland, in Cali- 
fornia. He would hang a great iron kettle over 


252 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


a fire like' this, and cook up some strange Balkan 
stew of lamb and tomatoes and green peppers 
and plenty of pilaff.” 

“What’s pilaff?” asked Polly. “It sounds like 
dessert.” 

“No. Just rice, but cooked perfectly, and 
served with lamb broth.” 

“Oh, please don’t tell any more,” begged Sue. 
“I’m just starved after the drive. See how 
beautifully the butter kept, girls, in the re- 
frigerator basket.” 

“And when the Doctor presented it to us, I 
never realized its full value,” Polly declared. 
“Has any one taken out the chicken?” 

Nobody had, but everyone wanted to help take 
it out of its nest, and open it up. The appetiz- 
ing odor that escaped was satisfying enough to 
silence any scoffer. Miss Harmon declared. 
With fresh corn and biscuit, peas and potato 
chips, and lemonade, the luncheon was almost a 
function. Joe had brought up a watermelon 
also, and this gave the finishing touch to the feast. 
Nearly two hours passed by in the grove before 
they started on their last lap towards the James 
River. 

“Only two days more, and we’ll be saying, ‘On 


SKELETONS IN RED COATS 253 


to Richmond,’ ” Polly said happily. “What are 
you thinking about, Ted? You look so far- 
away.” 

“I am inventing a tire that will burst noise- 
lessly,” replied Ted dreamily. “It’s of far more 
importance than Richmond, at least to this sec- 
tion of the road committee. I should think that 
rubber tires could be dipped into something boil- 
ing hot — ” 

“Ted! They’d melt,” Sue objected. 

“Maybe not boiling then, but pretty hot. 
Something we could put on soft and it would 
harden to a firm coating so that no tacks or glass 
or anything sharp could cut it open and let out 
that fearful pop.” 

“Just wait until Crullers and Isabel join us,” 
exclaimed Polly, her brown eyes sparkling with 
mischief. “I’d love to see Lady Vanitas jump 
at the first explosion.” 

“We’ll all have letters at Wyeth where we 
stop tonight,” promised Miss Harmon. “So 
there’s something to look forward to.” 

The girls breathed audible sighs of relief at 
the prospect. 

“Goodness only knows what may have hap- 
pened to Crullers in a week,” Ted exclaimed. 


254 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘Tf she is well, I think I shall wire back con- 
gratulations.” 

‘‘Make up a song about Wyeth, Ted. If 
you’re going to pose as poetess laureate, I think 
you should be ready at any time to spout verse. 
Go on, and we’ll help you out.” 

So Ted began slowly to chant, with frequent 
hesitancy and return for a rhyme, 

“Oh, we caught our breath at Wyeth, 

And found our letters there. 

Then took the trail in a howling gale — 

“There won’t be any gale,” Hallie protested. 

“That’s poetic license. Gale, fail, whale,” 
Ted stumbled over the last line. “Help out, 
girls, please. Polly, you said you would.” 

“And motored away on air,” 

finished Polly. “Now, you needn’t bind all the 
laurels on your noble brow at all, Ted. I can 
fashion a rhyme myself. All together now !” 

Even Patchin’s face relaxed into a grim smile 
as the chorus swelled behind him, and they cov- 
ered the last lap of the afternoon ready for real 
work after the fun of the morning. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 

Wyeth turned out to be the first place they 
had found so far without good hotel accommoda- 
tions. It was well off the main road of travel, 
and the only hostelry turned out to be a rather 
rickety affair on the rambling main street. 

‘T don’t like the looks of that one bit,” Miss 
Penelope declared. “Supposing, Patchin, that 
you take the girls around to the post office, and 
get our mail, while Polly and I hunt lodgings for 
the night. We’ll meet you right over at that 
corner under the mulberry tree.” 

“Under the spreading mulberry tree, the pa- 
tient chauffeur stands,” Ted remarked when half 
an hour later, the two searchers finally put in 
their appearance at the corner. “We’ve been 
waiting here ever so long, and we wanted to open 
your mail, Polly. It looks awfully inviting. 
There’s one from the Admiral, and one from 
Miss Jean — ” 


256 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Mrs. Penrhyn Smith,” corrected Polly, reach- 
ing eagerly for the letters. 

“Never mind, there’s one from her anyway, 
postmarked Deercroft, Wyoming. And we all 
have cards from Ruth and Isabel. Crullers 
decorated her cards with original sketches of 
our trip, and they’re wild. Wait till we get hold 
of her.” 

“Did you find any place to stay?” asked Sue, 
plaintively. “I’m ready to tumble in now.” 

“We did,” Miss Harmon answered cheerily. 
“Don’t fret. Sue. A good soldier never looks 
behind. Drive slowly, Patchin, to the left until 
you pass the white church and then on ahead to 
the burial ground. It’s opposite that.” 

“O-o-o-o!” breathed Natalie and Hallie to- 
gether. “After Annie Lou’s five ghosts in red 
coats, too. We won’t sleep a bit.” 

“You’ll have to,” Polly told them merrily. 
“It’s the only place where we could find any 
rooms for the night at all. The school teacher is 
away on her vacation, but her brother is at home, 
and he said we might stay at their home over- 
night. He is the sexton and town clerk, and 
his name is Mr. Ogle.” 

“Funny name, isn’t it?” Ted said thought- 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 257 


fully. “But there was a Gk)yemor Ogle and a 
Bishop Ogle too, wasn’t there. Miss Pen, some- 
where around Virginia?” 

“It’s a ]Maryland name, I think,” Miss 
Penelope told them. “And fine colonial stock 
lies back of it too, even if our present deponent 
does look like the apothecary in ‘Romeo and 
Juliet.’ There he is now, waiting to welcome us 
at the porch.” 

Polly had already met him, so she ran upstairs 
to the bedroom to read her letters, while the other 
girls were introduced to Mr. Ogle. They all 
liked him too, even though he was almost alarm- 
ingly thin. He was stoop shouldered and 
scholarly in appearance with a refined, rather 
whimsical face, and such an evident desire to 
make them all comfortable for the night that 
iliss Harmon assimed him he must not treat them 
as guests, but only as wayfarers whom he had 
taken in. 

The girls sat aroimd the bedroom coaxing 
Polly to read her letters, for she had received 
more than any of the others. Ruth’s was a club 
letter anyway, brimful of Queen’s Ferry gossip, 
^liss Honoria had found the HaU too lonely 
after the last of the resident girls had left, and 


258 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


she had gone west to the Alameda Ranch for the 
summer. Crullers had been trying to ride horse- 
back on one of Dr. Ellis’s horses, and had de- 
clared war on the English saddle and trot. She 
would ride a Mexican one at a lope, or not at 
all. Isabel was equipping herself for the mo- 
tor trip with all manner of dainty conveniences. 

“She has a folding toilet case, and a folding 
sewing case, and a folding sketching case, and 
I don’t know what else,” Ruth wrote. “I think 
if she could, when the Lady Vanitas goeth 
abroad, she would take with her a pavilion and 
a retinue of slaves like some fair lady we read 
about in Scott, remember? Didn’t she have a 
different colored pavilion for every day in the 
week? Isabel would love that sort of thing.” 

But the end of the letter was mystifying. It 
merely asked, “Have you heard about Senator 
Yates?” 

“Now, isn’t that just like Grandma,” ex- 
claimed Ted. “Lead you up to the most exciting 
point, then let you wait in suspense just to teach 
you patience. Go on, Polly. Goodness knows 
what ails the Senator. It can be anything from 
chickenpox to the Hippocampus wrecked at sea, 
for all Ruth tells us.” 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 259 


“You always look so funny when you splutter, 
Ted,” Sue said soothingly. “Cuddle right down, 
and let me pat your head the way Annie May al- 
ways wants to do to us.” 

Polly had opened the Admiral’s letter, and 
was too deeply engrossed even to notice their 
nonsense. He was visiting at Mrs. Langdon’s 
home in Richmond, and felt fairly reconciled 
now, although for the first few days after the 
departure of the club, he had seen visions of 
smashups and collisions every half hour. The 
postcards had relieved him, however, and now 
they were both looking forward to Sunday, hop- 
ing the car and occupants would arrive in toto. 

“In what?” asked Hallie, anxiously. 

“Altogether, goosie. No parts missing,” 
laughed Polly. “I hope we do too. Now, 
listen, for here is the news about the Senator.” 
She read aloud while the girls crowded around 
the bed: 

“ T know you will be as sorry as I was myself 
to hear of the Senator’s misfortune. White 
Chimneys where you visited last summer, may 
possibly pass out of the family’s hands, as he has 
met with severe business losses, and the end is 
not yet in sight. I hardly think you would un- 


260 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


derstand if I told you, matey, but it is not at all 
the Senator’s fault, and he has the sympathy of 
everyone. The blow has fallen unexpectedly 
when his own health was somewhat precarious. 
I believe Mrs. Yates has taken him home to Vir- 
ginia from the Capitol for a rest. If you travel 
in the neighborhood, stop and see them, for you 
may not have another chance of visiting at the 
old country seat.’ ” 

“We’ll go there right after Richmond, girls,” 
Polly exclaimed. “I’m awfully sorry for both 
of them, the Senator and Mrs. Yates have been 
so good to us.” 

“But they’re not the sort that depend on money 
for happiness,” began Sue thoughtfully. 

“Maybe not, but all the same it’s hard losing 
a place one loves the way they do White Chim- 
neys,” Polly answered. “Where’s Hallie?” 

They had not noticed her slipping quietly 
away as Polly read the news. 

“Probably gone to tell Miss Pen,” Ted said. 
“It’s her own uncle, you see, and Hallie says 
he’s been so good to her all her life.” 

“They’ve been good to everybody, and per- 
haps that’s the trouble,” Polly declared. “I 
know grandfather says the Senator gives, gives, 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 261 


gives, all the time to people who need help. 
Now, that he is in trouble, I wonder who will 
help him?” 

Miss Penelope had very little to say about the 
news. She was a trifle quieter, but still cheery 
and full of happy companionship. When Polly 
told her of the proposed trip to White Chimneys, 
her face brightened. 

‘T would have suggested it, only I thought 
possibly you girls would not care to go where 
there might be a shadow,” she said. 

“There must be no shadows there,” Polly 
answered firmly. “There must be some way to 
fix things.” 

It was Polly’s inevitable conclusion whenever 
there was any trouble to clear away. She had 
unbounded confidence in the sun shining no mat- 
ter how stormy the skies might be. It even 
lightened Miss Pen’s secret burden of anxiety to 
see how hopeful and full of faith she was. Later, 
when the girls had all fallen asleep, she stepped 
out on the gallery that ran across the front of 
the house. It was very still out of doors. In 
the west a far-off mountain peak seemed cloudy 
and nebulous in the faint glow of the moonrise. 
Out of a bank of low-hanging grey clouds, the 


262 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


moon rose, a dusky tender red like some wonder- 
ful flower of the night. Miss Pen sank into a 
low willow rocker, and drew her long dark green 
golf cape close around her. And so Polly found 
her when she slipped out, a slim wraith in white, 
with two long brown braids of hair over her 
shoulders. 

“Polly, you’ll catch cold!” 

“No, I won’t, surely I won’t,” whispered 
Polly, eagerly. “I’ve got a flannel kimono 
around me, and my slippers on. I won’t talk, 
truly. Miss Pen. I just want to sit on a stool 
beside you, and think too.” 

“You’re the best coaxer I ever met,” Penelope 
sighed. “Come along, but you won’t And me 
very good company, Polly. I’m rather per- 
plexed.” 

“Don’t you want to talk just a little bit?” 
Polly asked when she had found a stool, and 
drawn it close to the rocker. She leaned her chin 
on her hand, and rocked to and fro gently. 
“Aunty Welcome used to tell me always to talk 
trouble out of my mind if I could. She said if 
you kept it close and petted it, it sat right down 
in the inglenook and you couldn’t get it out with 
a poker. She used to say a little verse about it, 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 263 


something she found in the Atlanta Constitution. 
I think Aunty felt the whole nation really rested 
on that paper, for she was forever quoting from 
it, and cutting out pieces. Can I say this one?” 

‘Tf you like, dear.” 

And Polly repeated the quaint darky verse 
in the soft droning tone she had caught from 
Welcome. 

**Laugh it away. 

Chaff it away. 

Quaff it away. 

Let not blear-eyed Sorrow sit. 

At thy fireside. 

Throttle it! 

**Sing it away. 

Fling it away. 

Ring it away. 

Come, thou virgin Joy, and be 

Love and life and hope to me.** 

“I like the part about ‘throttle it,’ ” she added. 
“It’s SO sort of settling, you know.” 

‘Tt surely is,” laughed Miss Pen, “Polly, I’m 
not sad. I’m just trying to figure out things 
to myself about the Senator. I know why he is 
in trouble, but you would hardly understand. I 
know he is very impractical as a business man. 


264 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


His ideals are high. I have heard him called a 
typical old-time Virginia gentleman and that 
means a great deal more than our generation can 
quite compass in thought. One of its rules was 
to stand fast in friendship to the uttermost, and 
the Senator had a dear friend who was his first 
law partner too, years ago. No, don’t ask his 
name, child. Better not. But I may tell you 
that he failed in his work and in health lately, and 
to save him the Senator signed notes and bonds.” 

“And didn’t he pay back?” asked Polly, in a 
hushed whisper. 

“He could not. He died.” 

“And now the Senator must pay everything?” 

“Everything that his word and name have been 
given to. If he were a wealthy man, it would 
not matter so much, but as it is. White Chimneys 
will have to be sold, and perhaps the Richmond 
home too. Mrs. Yates has a smaller place in 
Maryland, and of course the house in Washing- 
ton. White Chimneys has been in reality a 
happy playground for us all, and more or less 
of an indulgence, so it will be the first to go.” 

Polly was silent. So many things raced 
through her mind. If only the Admiral could 
help, hut she knew it was impossible. There 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 265 


was plenty at Glenwood, but not enough to save 
White Chimneys. She reached up and put her 
arms around Miss Harmon’s neck, her cheek 
pressed close to hers. 

“Let’s sleep on it,” she said softly. “When he 
did the best he could to help a friend, somehow 
I think everything must turn out all right, don’t 
you? Grandfather always says if you steer by 
the north star you can’t go off the course. Let’s 
keep hoping and hoping and believing things 
must come right.” 

Penelope framed the eager yoimg face in her 
hands, and smiled down at it. 

“Polly, you’re a honey, that’s just what you 
are, and I declare if you haven’t comforted me 
too. I’m going to bed and steer by the north 
star in my dreams. Good-night, dearie.” 

The following day was Friday, and the girls 
found plenty of work before they started towards 
Richmond. One place was a strip of road along 
a pond above a sawmill. They heard the hum 
far off before they even came in sight of the 
mill. It sang in rising cadence as the big saw 
gnawed its way into the heart of the logs, then 
one last zip! as it fell, and back again to the 
song. 


266 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


They had come down a long hill road so nar- 
row that the low hanging boughs sometimes had 
to be jammed back so the car could get through, 
as its luggage top, as Polly dubbed it, made it 
higher than others. It had been a short cut over 
the hill, and the road looked well beaten. But 
the first sweeping turn brought them to the mill 
pond. There were ducks floating tranquilly 
about among lilies and drifting pieces of wood. 
The willows hung far over, trailing their tresses 
in the water. Farther down they could see the 
red roof of the mill. But Polly never noticed 
the mill. It was the unprotected road by the 
deep pond that caught her eye. 

“Supposing a machine came along here at 
night and just scooted over that edge into the 
water,” she said. “Ted, take a picture of it at 
once.” 

So the official photographer got out and pro- 
ceeded to snap the off ending pond. All at once 
there came a voice from a tree overhead, a large 
overhanging ash. 

“We don’t care how many pictures you take.” 
It was a happy encouraging voice. The girls 
glanced up quickly. From parted branches a 
girl’s face looked down on them, the fun in her 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 267 


eyes fairly sparkling. “It’s a mighty pretty 
view, ain’t it?” 

“Do you live at the mill?” Polly asked. 

“Part of the time. I go to school at Halliday 
winters. Where you all from?” 

She swung down easily from the branches, and 
faced them, brimful of interest and some an- 
tagonism too, for were they not saying her pond 
was not all it should be? 

“Queen’s Ferry. Why don’t you put up a 
fence here to protect people in the dark?” 

“Folks that have got sense don’t try to drive 
by here after dark.” She said it so simply and 
confidently that the girls chuckled, and even over 
Patchin’s face there dawned a slow grin of ap- 
preciation. 

“Well, we’re going to put it down on the road 
map,” explained Polly firmly, “so there must be 
a fence put up. What’s the name of the pond?” 

“We call it Willow Pond. And the mill is 
Blow-me-down Mill, and my father’s name is 
Tate Rogers. I’m Cherry Rogers.” She 
stopped a minute, and added naively. “I’d like 
some of the pictures you took mighty well.” 

“I’ll send you some. Cherry,” Ted exclaimed 
impulsively. “If you’ll coax your father to put 


268 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

a fence up here, I’ll send down a lot of pictures.” 

Cherry agreed to use all her home influence, 
and they went on. The mill never stopped its 
humming as they went by. Through the wide 
arched entrance they could see the shadowy in- 
terior, and the rain of golden sawdust from the 
log. Outside stood an ox team, but the patient 
beasts hardly flickered their eyelids as the car 
flashed past. 

“Wasn’t she pretty?” Hallie said musingly. 
“Her hair was just as curly as could be, and 
her dimples were deep like Polly’s. I wonder if 
she never gets tired of staying here in the woods.” 

“I’m going to send her the pictm’es surely,” 
Ted declared. “She was as old as we are, girls, 
but she looked younger with those short skirts. 
We have plenty of surprises anyway, even if 
we don’t get much chance for amusement.” 

“I think we get lots of chances,” Sue flashed 
back. “I’m having fun every single minute.” 

“That shows that you have the soul of the true 
worker. Sue,” Polly announced. “When you 
really love your work you’re an artist, and art is 
a sort of adventure, isn’t it. Miss Pen, for you 
never quite know yourself what sort of art you 
may turn out.” 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 269 


“That’s me,” Ted returned happily, with a 
fine disregard for mere grammatical rules. “I 
have taken so many snap shots that I know I 
shall saunter around hereafter in my sleep, snap- 
ping views of Hallie’s pigtails obstructing the 
pillow expanse, and of Polly chasing bats.” 

She picked away industriously at a stubborn 
cartridge that refused to budge from the little 
camera. 

“Borrow a pair of tweezers from Mr. Patchin,” 
suggested Natalie. 

“Tweezers! Listen to the infant. Borrow a 
wrench and a pair of pliers and a jack. This 
hairpin won’t budge it. Miss Pen.” 

“I don’t see, Polly, how you can write post- 
cards on your knee like that while we are bump- 
ing over this road,” Sue said, after the offending 
film had been lifted out with ease by Patchin’s 
thumb and forefinger as a jack. “How many 
are there of them? Fifty?” 

“Thirty-five,” answered Polly, scribbling her 
messages industriously. “I’m always afraid I’ll 
miss somebody so I send to everyone from the 
Big Chief up and down the line to little Stoney. 
Here goes one back to Mrs. Wimbledon to let 
her know we’ll always love her.” 


270 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

Sue wrapped an affectionate arm around the 
shoulders beside her. 

“You are really an old dear, Polly Page,” she 
said solemnly. “If the world is a looking-glass, 
as Miss Pen said, I should think it would almost 
get tired smiling back at you and waving a glad 
hello.” 

“It hasn’t yet, anyway. Let’s all send word 
to the Senator and Mrs. Yates that we’re com- 
ing to see them next week.” 

The message was posted at the next town they 
came to, and they decided they would go direct to 
White Chimneys from Richmond. 

It was late Saturday afternoon when they 
rolled into Richmond, rather tired and dusty, but 
happy. The Admiral and Mrs. Langdon were 
sitting on the upper veranda when the machine 
turned up the long winding road from the main 
thoroughfare of Forest Vale. Polly knew the 
house well, but it was new to the others. Built 
of dark red brick with wide outreaching wings 
like hospitable arms, it stood far back in a gar- 
den. Across the front of it stretched a broad 
veranda, with upper gallery, and large white 
columns supporting it. 

Polly led the way upstairs. She had always 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 271 


loved best to play up there when she was little. 
The great upper hall was carpeted in dark red, 
and was always cool in summer and warm and 
cheery in winter, with a broad fireplace at one 
side. 

Across one end of it near the windows stood 
Aunt Evelyn’s old-fashioned square piano, with 
a few of the ivories missing from the keys where 
Polly had picked them off years before. 

“May we have tea up here, please. Aunt 
Evelyn,” Polly asked, after the greetings were 
over, and the first budget of news had been 
talked over. 

“You may all do just as you like, child,” Mrs. 
Langdon assured her smilingly. “Dear me, I 
sent you all away so fresh and sweet and now 
you look like a lot of gypsies. Cary and Randy 
rode over this morning and said you were to go 
there for tea tomorrow night, and you could stay 
over, they would like to have you, as Monday 
night some of Randy’s boy friends and Cary’s 
college mates are to have a little informal dance.” 

“We must stop our businesslike ears with cot- 
ton,” Ted announced resolutely. “Polly, if you 
see Nat or Sue twirling, hobble them. We are 
just hardworking pioneers of the road.” 


272 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Just for one day,” Polly suggested hesi- 
tantly, her eyes beginning to widen and sparkle 
with anticipation. “Girls, one day wouldn’t 
matter much, would it? And by resting over 
another day, we’ll save gallons of gasoline, whole 
gallons, think of it, besides two days’ hotel ex- 
pense. I know it isn’t nice to mention that,” as 
even the Admiral joined in the laughter over her 
notions of economy, “but it is really true. So 
let’s stay. We’ve worked hard all the week, and 
really have results to show for it.” 

“What do you think, Penelope?” asked the 
Admiral from the corner where he and Miss Har- 
mon were engrossed in a discussion over the best 
routes to take from Richmond north to the Na- 
tional Highway. 

“If I may stay here while the girls go on to 
Sunny side, then I shall vote to remain over until 
Tuesday. This is the coolest, and most restful 
spot I have found since we left Queen’s Ferry.” 

It was settled therefore, and word sent over to 
Sunny side that they were to stay over for the 
dance. 

Sunday morning the girls walked to old St. 
Paul’s. It was about a mile from Mrs. Lang- 
don’s home, towards the city. The Admiral and 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 273 


his daughter preferred to drive leisurely behind 
the plump span of greys, “Lady Grey” and 
“Prince Charlie.” 

‘T used to go here when I was ever so little,” 
Polly said, when they came in sight of the old 
church on a rise of ground with the quaint burial 
place beyond the rows of tall evergreens. “Out 
in the burial ground there are flat tombstones, 
and I was always trying to push them over a 
little bit, I remember, because they seemed so 
heavy to be on top of anyone.” 

It was very quiet within the old-fashioned 
brick ediflce. There was no rustle, no passing 
to and fro of cassocked altar boys. Behind a 
curtained enclosure sat a choir of young girls 
and women. Polly recognized Cary’s face 
among them, wonderfully sweet and fair with its 
look of almost consecration when she sang the 
grand old canticles. 

After service the girls were greeted by Dr. 
Harden, the rector, who, as he told them, had 
often patted Polly on the head just as he him- 
self had been patted by the Admiral in years 
gone by for being a well-behaved lad during 
service. 

Polly wanted to show the girls the rare 


274 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


hand-carving on the pews and arches. The 
pews she had always liked because they were 
high and had lots of cushions in them, and little 
doors that closed. 

“Ted,” she said softly, “remember the little old 
school-house at Beaver Ford in Wyoming? 
Everything is so easy to love and hold fast down 
here in a dear old church like this where every- 
one holds fast with you. But think of what it 
is like away up there.” 

“The Missionary Bishop rides hundreds of 
miles all the time,” Ted answered thoughtfully. 
“I shall always think of him as riding through 
miles and miles of sage brush holding up a great 
cross like the old-time crusaders. There’s Cary 
waiting to speak to you.” 

She was behind the Admiral and Doctor Mar- 
den, waiting to reach them, but smiling a wel- 
come over the intervening shoulders. Polly was 
radiant as she introduced the girls a minute 
later. She had told them so much about Cary 
Dinwiddie, and she knew by the expression on 
their faces that they admired her at first sight 
just as she had done. 

“Randy told us of how you rescued him and 
the boys last week on that old side road,” she 


THE ROAD TO RICHMOND 275 


said merrily. “So we have planned a sort of re- 
union dance for you as the survivors, you know. 
Uncle Cary will be there too, and the Admiral 
must come to meet him. I believe they were old 
navy shipmates one time — ” 

“One time, young lady,” the Admiral swung 
about, beaming down on them proudly. “Why, 
God bless my heart and soul, we were flying up 
and down the coast and around to New Orleans 
through the hottest part of the Civil War. We 
watched them set fire to the bales of cotton in 
the harbor at New Orleans and float them down 
to bjLirn the ships. My best compliments to him, 
and tell him I shall be most happy to attend the 
dance and salute him.” 

“Then you are coming?” Cary smiled up at 
him. “And the girls too?” 

“But we haven’t any dance dresses to wear,” 
interrupted Polly. “We are all sober-minded 
business persons on a tour of inspection and you 
mustn’t beguile us, Cary.” 

“Oh, wear what you have so long as you come,” 
Cary told them merrily. “We will dance out on 
the veranda an 5 rway, with Chinese lanterns for 
light.” 

“Well,” Sue said later, when they were ready 


276 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


for Sunnyside, “there is one great advantage in 
having only one party dress with you. You’re 
not all flustered over what you’re going to wear. 
These white middy blouses are very tidy.” 

The ride out from Richmond to Sunnyside was 
about fourteen miles. Miss Harmon preferred to 
drive with the Admiral, as she said she was al- 
most weary of jolting in the machine, and would 
welcome a carriage, but the girls coaxed Mrs. 
Langdon to act as chaperon in her place, and 
they found the glow from the Chinese lanterns 
already shining softly through the foliage like 
great glow worms when they reached the spread- 
ing lawns of Sunnyside. 


CHAPTER XVII 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 

“This is just splendid, Cary, after chasing 
around in a dusty roadster for a week,” sighed 
Polly, leaning back in a cushioned swing settee 
that hung on long chains from the veranda roof. 
Indoors Ted was rattling off dance music that 
fairly made you tingle to the tips of your fingers, 
and Randy and his boy friends, looking very 
manly and natty in their white duck cadet suits, 
were hovering around the girls. “There’s Sue 
listening to Billie explaining a new kind of axle 
that won’t break. . Billie’s got a 16 -power run- 
about, and thinks he knows all about cars and 
upkeep.” 

“I just passed by Natalie, and she’s telling 
Andy Forbes something about a spark control,” 
laughed Cary, drawing her silver spangled scarf 
around her shoulders. “I suppose you girls 
have learned all about the mechanism of the car 
and how to run it and everything.” 


278 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

“Well, no, we haven’t,” Polly answered 
frankly, turning to cast a suspicious glance over 
at Natalie. “I think Nat’s just making believe 
a bit. It would never do to let the boys think 
we didn’t know anything about it, you know. 
Cary, have you heard how the Senator is?” 

Cary shook her head sadly. She was looking 
down at a new ring on her left hand, a diamond 
that sparkled like a drop of dew in the center of 
a circlet of gold. 

“He is suffering from a nervous breakdown, 
I am afraid, from what Mrs. Yates wrote to 
mother. I understand they were going to take 
him north on the yacht for a week or more. He 
is such a splendid friend and has given that 
friendship so lavishly to all who needed it that it 
seems doubly hard we cannot help him now.” 

“You mean to buy White Chimneys over?” 

“Oh, it is more than that, Polly. Of course 
the dear old estate must go, but the shock has 
been a severe one besides, and it is more a case 
of his personal health just now, Marbury tells 
me.” She hesitated before adding, “You know 
that Marbury and I are engaged, so I feel as 
though their trouble were my own.” 

“I’m awfully glad, Cary,” exclaimed Polly. 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


279 


“Trouble is hard to bear, of course, but it slips 
away. Somehow I can’t feel as if White Chim- 
neys would be lost. I want to have a good long 
talk with grandfather about it. If the Senator 
and Mrs. Yates have gone away on the Hippo- 
campuSj of course we girls can’t go down there 
from here as we had planned. We were only 
going to stop in for a few hours as we passed. 
Perhaps after he returns we may be able to see 
him.” 

“Perhaps,” assented Cary. “Mother and I 
are going there the fifteenth of July for two 
weeks, so they are sure to be back by then. I’ll 
ask Marbury tonight when I write to him.” 

She rose to start the dancing, but Polly 
lingered a few minutes more, her chin resting 
on her palm as it always did when she was think- 
ing seriously. 

The trip down to White Chimneys would have 
to be postponed for a while, that was certain, 
owing to the Senator’s trouble and absence from 
home. Perhaps it would be better to circle 
around over the routes laid out up the state, and 
then make the run direct to Wenoka at the end 
of the trip. They could leave the car there and 
come back by rail to Queen’s F erry. 


280 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

Randy came swinging along the veranda, hunt- 
ing her. 

“Don’t you know they’re waiting for us to 
lead out in this reel, Pollykin?” he said cheer- 

iiy- 

“What a funny name to call me. I’m not a 
bit ‘Pollykin.’ I’m fifteen and very dignified.” 
Polly kept her seat, looking up at him mischiev- 
ously. “Go and lead with Sue. I’m medi- 
tating.” 

“Not tonight can you sit and meditate.” He 
caught her hand, and made her hurry along with 
him. “Listen. Don’t you want to get a good 
look at the Admiral and Uncle Brock? It’s a 
perfect joy to see them. They’ve forsaken us 
all, and are pacing the west veranda for a quar- 
ter deck, swapping all the piled-up sea tales of 
thirty years back. Come along.” 

Polly laughed, and they ran like a couple of 
children down the wide veranda to peep around 
the corner at the two old shipmates, arm in arm, 
smoking luxuriously, and pacing the veranda 
deck with dignity and serenity. 

“The two old darlings,” whispered Polly lov- 
ingly. “Aren’t they having a splendid time, 
though?” 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


281 


“Polly!” Cary called from within the long 
hall. “We’re waiting for you and Randy.” 

She struck the first chord of the reel, but it 
never seemed to reach the Admiral’s ears or his 
companion’s, so the two stole silently away un- 
observed. 

“Well,” Ted exclaimed breathlessly, as she 
sank into a chair after the first dance. “It’s 
worth working hard all the week for this. Andy, 
don’t you start telling me any more about ma- 
chines or new kinds of oils or tires, or anything. 
I want to make believe that we are ten thousand 
miles from gasoline and gears.” 

“Crawfish,” teased Sue. “We’ll send you 
home instead of Nat and Hallie.” 

“No, you won’t,” Ted replied, with a little 
sigh of resignation. “This is a crusade, and I 
carry something more important than the ban- 
ner. I’ve got the camera and I’m the only one 
that can make it behave itself. Polly said the 
funniest thing about it. She tried to learn how 
to shoot last year with a rifie up on the ranch, so 
when she used the camera, and it didn’t act right, 
she said it ‘kicked’ just like the Big Chief’s old 
army rifle.” 

“Uncle Brock’s asking Cary to sing some of 


282 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


the old Scotch songs that he loves best,” Randy- 
told them as he passed by. They were out on 
the veranda in wide arm-chairs, and could look 
in through the long French windows at Cary, 
seated at the piano in her soft primrose satin 
gown with a delicate old lace scarf around her 
young shoulders. Her hair was dressed in soft 
loose braids wound around her head with little 
escaping curls at ears and temples. Polly had 
tucked two jessamine flowers above one ear. 

“Isn’t she just dear?'' Hallie whispered, sit- 
ting on the arm of Sue’s chair, and leaning for- 
ward to see past Polly’s curls. Then they kept 
silent to catch Cary’s tender contralto in old 
“Loch Lomond.” Polly’s eyes filled slowly. 
She loved music passionately, and it always sent 
a quick lump up in her throat and made her want 
to cry. As the last low thrilling notes died 
away, she heard Ted whisper exultantly just 
back of her, 

“I got him!” 

“Ted,” Sue warned in a hushed tone, “don’t, 
just when we’re all under a spell.” 

“You’d have been under something worse than 
a spell if I hadn’t caught him, all the same. 
Look here!” 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


283 


She dangled a large fuzzy caterpillar before 
them, still alive and wriggling, but Ted held 
him firmly upside down and stood her ground. 

“He was directly over the back of your neck, 
Polly, just ready to ‘light,’ when Cary got to 
‘You’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low.’ 
He would have been in Loch Lomond before her 
if I hadn’t caught him.” 

“Ted, you have no soul for music,” Polly de- 
clared. “Throw it away.” 

“After all that concentration? No, I think I 
shall tame him for a mascot. It never did seem 
right to call caterpillars just ‘it.’ They have 
lots of individuality if you only understand 
them.” 

“Uncle Brock’s going to sing too,” Randy 
whispered warningly. “He’s got a bully voice, 
regular French horn the way it roars out the im- 
pressive notes, you know. He’s sure to tune up 
with ‘Scots who ha’ wi’ Wallace bled.’ Watch 
him shake back his iron grey mane now, and let 
go.” 

Polly put her hand firmly over his mouth to 
make him hush, and she heard the first song of 
the old Commodore. Cary was at the piano, and 
nearby Mrs. Dinwiddie, the Commodore’s own 


284 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


sister. She smiled up at the two faces in the 
glow of light, the Commodore’s, tanned and 
weathered until it looked like old parchment, 
tinted rosily. His blue eyes were round and 
bright as a child’s, and had the same surprised, 
expectant look. 

Cary led him deftly on from one old favorite 
to another until the Admiral took him by the 
arm, declaring the girls merely wanted to spoil 
him utterly. 

It was nearly twelve before the last of Cary’s 
guests left Sunnyside. The boys were busy 
blowing out the last spluttering candles in the 
Chinese lanterns around the veranda, and later, 
the girls heard them singing college songs as 
they crossed the lawn towards the rising hill be- 
yond the house, pine covered and filled with 
fragrant odors and whispering winds. 

‘‘Mother has promised them they may camp 
out in the grove tonight,” said Cary. 

“I wish we might too,” Polly returned wist- 
fully. “I think that next year we’ll go straight 
up to the mountains and camp out like girl 
scouts. Only mountains seem to shut one in 
somehow, unless you can be right up near the 
top.” 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


285 


Ted counted oif on her fingers slowly. 

“Houseboat club, mountain campers, Gypsy 
wagon, and some that I forgot to remember. 
Which shall it be, which shall it be?” 

“Ted, go away,” Polly coaxed, laughingly. 
“You always are so explicit. Anyway, it’s a 
good thing to have several things to choose from.” 

“One summer about three years ago, we mo- 
tored up through the White Mountains,” said 
Cary dreamily. She sat on the veranda railing, 
her hands clasped behind her head. Indoors, the 
other girls had clustered around Mrs. Dinwiddie 
at the piano, listening to old-time mammy slum- 
ber songs. Ted had rambled away at the re- 
buff. “There were four of us. Mother and 
Father and Randy and me. I remember one 
mountain with an old stone house clear up on 
top, so far up that the clouds drifted below one 
like rising mist! There was an old guide who 
lived there alone. Tommy Woodhead they called 
him. He told us he had lived there for years, 
and he liked it because on clear days he could 
see the ocean.” 

“But why didn’t he go down to the real ocean 
if he loved it so?” asked Polly. 

Cary shook her head, smiling to herself. 


286 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“Perhaps he never even thought of that. 
Perhaps it seemed more precious to him seen 
from afar like some Promised Land whenever 
the clouds lifted. If you should choose to go 
camping next year, try the White Mountains, 
Polly.” 

“We plan to do so many things, and there are 
ever so many of the Calvert girls who want to 
join the club too. I think it is better to work 
in groups of five or ten, though, and start a new 
branch as we grow. You don’t know, Cary, 
what dandy times we girls do have all through 
the winter, and how we work and plan every- 
thing out ourselves.” 

“Polly!” Ted’s head appeared in the oblong 
of light at the nearest window. “Where’s 
Hallie?” 

“With Nat and the rest of the girls, isn’t she?” 

“No. We just missed her. She hasn’t been 
seen since we all stood out on the steps calling 
good-bye when the machines drove away. 
That’s half an hour ago, and I’ve asked everyone 
but she’s really and truly gone.” 

“Where could she go, goosie?” Polly teased. 
“Tell the boys to look around the garden. She’s 
hiding from you.” 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


287 


Cary had stepped into the house to search for 
herself. The music at the piano had stopped, 
and the girls scattered to hunt the missing one. 
Polly stood still for a minute, hearing them call 
“Hallie! Hallie!” down in the garden and 
through the house. Somehow it made her think 
of poor old Wandering Joe whom they had met 
tramping the hill roads near Matoax. 

“The boys haven’t seen her anywhere,” Ted 
declared, coming back out of breath and flushed. 
“It’s the strangest thing, Polly, for Nat says she 
was right beside her out on the veranda, and she 
simply disappeared.” 

“Where’s Nat?” Polly turned, and foimd Sue 
and Natalie coming in from the garden. “Did 
she seem sick or anything like that?” 

“She was yawning,” said Nat after a minute’s 
consideration. “Yes, I remember she was 
yawning.” 

“Oh, girls,” Polly began, her whole face 
dimpling with quick fun. Before they could get 
more from her, she ran ahead of them upstairs 
to the snug little chamber Hallie was to share 
with Natalie. There was no light in it. Polly 
went directly to the bed, and felt of the cover- 
lid. It was very bulgy. At the top her hands 


288 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


found Hallie’s smooth braids, and she tugged at 
them. 

“Don’t wake me up,” Hallie begged sleepily. 
“Please, girls.” 

“Well, of all things,” Sue exclaimed, when 
they crowded into the room, and sat around the 
bed just like the seven dwarfs around Snow 
White. “How did you ever get here, Hallie?” 

“I was sleepy, and I just came up to bed,” 
Hallie protested. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” Polly told her, soothingly. 
“You’ve set us a lovely example, Hallie. Good- 
night, honey.” 

“Good-night, honey lamb,” chorused the rest, 
but Hallie only tucked the pillow under her 
chin, and went back to sleep. 

“Don’t stay awake all night talking to each 
other,” warned Mrs. Dinwiddie when they had 
said good-night to her and Cary. “If there are 
tired eyes tomorrow, I shall keep you over an- 
other day.” 

In spite of the warning, though, Polly spread 
out the road map, and the five pored over its 
routes northward. 

“I’ll rest easier if I know where we’re boimd 
tomorrow,” she said. “It’s almost a bee line now 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


289 


for the National Highway, girls, but we take in 
these mountains between. Miss Harmon said 
she would be here with the car and Patchin by 
seven-thirty, so we must be up and dressed and 
have breakfast eaten by then!” 

“Where are you going to sleep, Polly?” asked 
Sue drowsily, combing out her hair. 

“Next to Cary’s room. Good-night, chil- 
dren.” She gathered up her maps, and went 
down the long corridor to Cary’s room. Just 
for a moment she paused and tapped on the 
door. “Only a word more,” she said softly, 
when Cary opened it. “Be sure to find out about 
the Senator, won’t you, Cary, and let me know. 
If you write to me at any of the places past Roa- 
noke, I will get it. You have the list of stopping 
places, haven’t you? It’s only that I feel so 
anxious about him. He’s been awfully good to 
us girls.” 

Cary promised she would send the news along 
as fast as it reached her through Marbury. So 
the night at Sunnyside passed, and it seemed to 
Hallie and the rest that their heads had just 
touched the pillows when Polly’s voice aroused 
them to get up and dress. 

“This is like a hunt breakfast,” said Randy, as 


290 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


they all stood around in the long dining-room, 
helping themselves to the buffet spread. “Roast 
ham, roast chicken, jellies, and ‘toasties.’ That’s 
what Cindy in the kitchen calls these strips of 
toast. She used to feed me on them all the time 
when I was a poor helpless toddling angel ; didn’t 
you, Cindy?” 

Lucinda, stately and tall, in blue linen, handed 
in a plate of muffins, and smiled broadly. 

“Ah’d suttinly have ter wait a long time before 
you’d be a toddling angel, Marse Randy,” she 
retorted. “Ah nussed you faithful and true, and 
willingly too, an’ Ah nevah see sech a rambunc- 
tious chile in all mah bo’n days.” 

Outside came the mellow call of the siren that 
the girls all knew so well. The morning feast 
came to a hasty end, but Mrs. Dinwiddie had 
filled a capacious basket with sandwiches and 
fruit and Cindy’s best cake, to bear them com- 
pany on their journey. 

It seemed odd to find themselves back on the 
road again. Sue said it was like making a fresh 
start. 

“We go up state to Staunton, then along the 
Valley Pike to Washington, and that is really 
the official end of the trip, girls. But after that 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


291 


grandfather says he will see that we make the run 
down to Wenoka safely, and perhaps go with us. 
I know that Isabel will want to get back home, 
for she has her music, and you know if she’s away 
from those five-finger exercises for a week, she 
feels her future career is in peril.” 

“But, Polly, if you like you may ship the car, 
or let Patchin take it back, and we can go down 
by rail,” suggested Miss Harmon. But Polly 
and the rest protested that they would welcome 
any addition to the trip. 

“And while I think of it, Mr. Patchin,” Ted 
said suddenly, “don’t you think that you could 
take us, one at a time of course, and let us sit 
beside you and watch the things you do to the 
machine? We ought to know more about it 
practically, girls. Those boys, Randy and Ted 
and the others, can take their cars apart and put 
them together again.” 

“Maybe they can,” Sue returned scornfully. 
“You know what boys think they can do, 
and what they really can do, are two different 
things, aren’t they. Miss Pen? But I’d love 
to learn how to run the car, wouldn’t you, 
Polly?” 

Polly’s eyes sparkled. She held on to her flut- 


292 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


tering veil, and leaned over to catch what they 
were saying. 

“We’d promise to be very careful, Mr. Pat- 
chin.” 

“They say a woman makes a better driver 
than a man,” answered Patchin judiciously. 
“She’s easier and kinder to a machine. A car’s 
a delicate sort of thing anyway, and when you 
slew one around, and grind on the brakes in- 
stead of ‘cutting out,’ something’s liable to hap- 
pen. Women coax a machine instead of forcing 
it on. Most of them like a ‘baby electric,’ but 
there’s lots in this country and abroad that ain’t 
afraid to put on overalls and crawl under a car 
to see what ails it.” 

“I’d love to do that,” Polly returned so em- 
phatically that they all laughed at her. Never- 
theless when they reached a smooth stretch of 
road, Patchin stopped the car, and Polly took 
her first practical lesson. 

“You should learn to drive in the dark first 
of all,” Penelope said. “That’s the new ‘touch’ 
method, the same as on the piano or typewriter, 
or anything that depends on the fingers and 
hands for efficiency and speed. That way you 
learn how to handle your car almost automatic- 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


293 


ally, and when there is any danger ahead, or need 
of quick action, you move your mechanism under 
hands and feet without having to look down first 
to see what you are going to clutch.” 

“I’ll shut my eyes,” Polly said. 

“Not with us in the car, please, Polly,” begged 
Natalie. “It’s no fair learning with all of us 
here to stand any jolt.” 

“Now just look there,” exclaimed Polly sud- 
denly. She had been running at low speed, 
cautiously, with a firm grip on the steering wheel 
as though it might get away from her, and all at 
once there flashed into sight a five passenger car 
with a girl at the wheel, bareheaded, and quite 
alone, clipping along the road to Richmond as 
carelessly as if she had been riding a pet horse. 
Polly stopped dead short to look back at the 
cloud of dust. “I’d love to go like that,” she 
sighed. “Wonder who she is, girls.” 

“It seems queer to think of all the people we 
have met even so far, and may never see again, 
doesn’t it?” Sue said thoughtfully. 

“Mrs. Langdon told me of a splendid old 
hermit that we must be sure to see,” Penelope 
broke in. “He lives up on the side of Squirrel 
Mountain above Rohansville. We stop there 


294 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


tonight, about seven, and can go up tomorrow 
to see him. There’s some mystery about him. 
They say he used to be a Confederate spy, and 
he declares he has never surrendered.” 

“The dear old Spartan,” cried Ted sympa- 
thetically. “And nobody to hold his shield for 
him while he fell on his sword in honorable de- 
spatch. Let’s coax him to give one good rebel 
yell for us, girls.” 

The road was fairly good for about fifty miles 
out of Richmond. Here too, they met many ma- 
chines bound north to Washington and south- 
ward towards N orf oik by way of Richmond. By 
ten o’clock the heat was beginning to be felt, and 
they turned into a shady grove facing the south 
where a signboard notified travelers that “Piney 
Ridge Inn” lay farther ahead. 

When it came in sight it was not at all like a 
hotel, but merely an old-fashioned house a story 
and a half high with a great brick chimney taking 
up almost one side. There were two stone deer 
on the front lawn, one reclining and one standing 
alert and listening. Baby evergreen trees only 
a foot high were set out in green tubs around the 
veranda, and a brightly striped awning made an 
attractive dash of color among the dark pines. 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


295 


The girls enjoyed their afternoon rest there 
ever so much. It seemed, as Polly said, that 
every place held its own little human story. The 
mistress of the inn was Mrs. Molly Appley, and 
there were five little Appleys looking up to her 
to give them daily crumbs like a nestful of robins. 
The father bird had lost out in the fight of life 
and lay up in the old family lot on the mountain 
side. 

“But weVe gotten along beautifully,” Mrs. 
Appley told them happily, as she moved lightly 
back and forth, accomplishing everything with 
little effort. “I had the home, you see, and we 
were close to the main road, so I put up the sign, 
and started out to serve light lunches to the 
people going by to Richmond or up to the Capi- 
tal. And now we have a good trade all the time. 
It would be a bit wearisome and lonely if I didn’t 
have the children, but we’re lots of company for 
each other, and it’s a sort of commonwealth for 
us all. Grace and Margaret are old enough to 
be a great help, twelve and fourteen they are, and 
dear girls too, if I do say so.” Her gaze rested 
lovingly on her girls, talking with Hallie and 
Natalie over near the grape arbor. “And the 
boys help too. Gardiner can drive a horse, and 


296 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


does nearly all my buying for me at the village, 
and Davie helps weed the garden, and drives the 
cow for me, and helps take care of Sonnykin, our 
baby. He’s only four, and into everything. 
We haven’t time to be lonely.” 

After they were on the road again, Polly said 
suddenly. ‘Tt is love that makes the world go 
’round, isn’t it. Miss Pen? I’ll never forget her 
face. It just fairly shone with love and content- 
ment, and there she has all of those little mouths 
to feed herself and she doesn’t mind it a bit. 
Why, if Daddy, as Sonnykin called him, had 
lived, I know he’d have grown discouraged long 
ago, and shifted the brood right into some asylum 
while he went west. Let’s put down ‘Piney 
Ridge Inn’ on our map, with a strong recom- 
mendation. Ted, did you take a good picture of 
the house?” 

“Dandy, with the whole group, and you girls 
at the little green tables under the awning. 
Girls, I just thought of something. Why 
couldn’t we get up a little travelers’ guide book 
with these photographs of the best places to stop, 
and pictures of the historic places. It would 
sell, wouldn’t it. Miss Pen?” 

“Ted, we have enough to do as it is. Just 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


297 


feast your eyes on that picture.” Miss Harmon 
pointed to the sweeping valley that lay before 
them between the rising hills and far-off moun- 
tains. “That always rests my eyes and makes 
the ordinary little business details of life seem so 
unnecessary.” 

Ted looked, unconvinced. The details of life 
were very important just at present, and she had 
her thoughts fixed far ahead on the net result on 
the balance sheet that should conclude the trip. 
But the valley view was so beautiful that she 
finally took a picture of it for the private collec- 
tion, under protest. 

“Ted, you’re getting grouchy,” Polly said hap- 
pily, one arm around the sturdy shoulders of the 
club photographer. “What’s the matter?” 

“I don’t know myself,” Ted returned shortly. 
“Better send me home, Polly. I’m a wet 
blanket.” 

“Indeed we’ll not send you home,” Polly in- 
sisted. “You’ve got the artistic temperament, 
and are doubly precious, so we have to put up 
with you. If you get too artistic, we’ll hold you 
head downwards in the first good cold spring we 
come to.” 

“All aboard for Squirrel Mountain,” called 


298 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Miss Penelope, for Hallie and Natalie were 
clambering up the hillside after some scarlet 
trumpet flowers growing high up there. “We 
have twenty-five miles still to run, and two side 
roads to take a look at, so pile in, children.” 

When they took their seats, Polly managed to 
get beside Ted, and during the remainder of the 
trip that day she tried to find out what ailed her, 
but Ted was obstinate and refused to talk. Then 
all at once it dawned on Polly. Sue was full of 
fun and talked to Hallie and Natalie, but not one 
word did she say to Ted, her faithful old-time 
chum for years at Calvert. When they reached 
Rohansville, about seven, Polly managed to cor- 
ner Sue as they were all going down to supper. 

“Aren’t you and Ted speaking to each other?” 
she asked, her big brown eyes full of frank trou- 
ble. 

“Well, Polly, if Ted won’t speak to me, how 
can I speak to her?” asked Sue aggrievedly. 
“I’m sure I don’t know what I’ve done to her. 
She’s been fussy and cross for several days, and 
after the dance last night she just flatly wouldn’t 
speak to me at all.” 

Polly thought for a minute, then waggled one 
accusing forefinger at Sue’s gypsy face. 


CARY OF SUNNYSIDE 


299 


“I’ll bet two cents to a doughnut it’s boys,” she 
said. “We always have a splendid time as long 
as we keep to ourselves, but just the minute you 
let any boys in on the fun, there’s trouble. I 
might have known what that dance would do. 
Look what the dance before Waterloo did.” 

“But, Polly, it isn’t my fault,” protested Sue. 
“I couldn’t help it if Billie wanted to dance with 
me more than with Ted, could I?” 

“Couldn’t you?” Polly met her eyes squarely. 
“He couldn’t take you out on the floor and make 
you dance, could he? You’re a perfect goose to 
let any boy spoil the dandy friendship you and 
Ted have had ever since you went to Calvert. It 
isn’t playing cricket. Sue, honest it isn’t. Stand 
by each other always and forevermore, that’s the 
way we should do. Talk it over with Ted.” 

“She won’t speak to me,” faltered Sue, almost 
ready to cry. 

Polly looked at Ted, walking ahead beside 
Miss Penelope. 

“I’ll talk to her,” she said. “Wait till bed- 
time.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 

It was the first break in friendship that had 
happened since the club started, and Polly could 
not rest until it was mended. That night after 
the girls had gone to bed, she went softly to the 
room Ted and Sue shared, and tapped. The 
light was out, hut Ted’s voice said sleepily to 
come in. 

“Is Sue asleep?” Polly sat down on the foot of 
the bed, and clasped her hands about her knees. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Ted replied quite 
distantly. 

“Sue, wake up.” Polly pinched the nearest 
toe, and Sue gave a smothered, half hysterical 
giggle under the clothes. “You’re crying,” 
Polly accused. “Come out and face the music, 
because I won’t let either of you sleep tonight 
until you make up. What’s the matter with you, 
Ted?” 

“Well, if you must know,” Ted suddenly ex- 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 301 


ploded, “Sue gave Billie my very best snapshot. 
I heard him beg and beg for it, but I never 
thought she’d give it to him when it was mine.” 

“It was mine, Ted, you know it was,” Sue sat 
bolt upright, her black braids hanging on each 
side of her head Indian fashion. “I never 
thought you’d care like this. He’s an awfully 
nice boy, and he did want your picture so much.” 

“My picture!” gasped Ted. “He took your 
picture.” 

“Oh, Ted, you dear old silly thing, he took my 
picture of you, the little snapshot of you taken 
up at the ranch last year on the pony.” 

Polly said nothing. She was one beaming 
smile as she watched the two suddenly clasp each 
other in a good close hug, then she climbed down 
from the bed. 

“I guess you’ll be all right now, children,” she 
told them. “And for pity’s sake don’t get into 
any more squabbles. That was our first dance, 
and you see what happened. I don’t think that 
Billie should have coaxed for the picture, and 
Sue should never have given it up, but since it 
did happen, we’ll lay it to moonlight and Chinese 
lanterns. Good-night.” 

“Good-night, Polly,” the two answered. 


302 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


meekly enough, and peace returned to the club. 

There was so much work ahead of them that 
week from Richmond to Roanoke where they 
were to hit the main road up to Staunton, that 
the girls had not time for personal fretting over 
anything. They planned to reach Staunton by 
the following Sunday, to meet Isabel and Crul- 
lers who were at Hot Springs with Mrs. Lee. 

Every night Polly worked over her daily 
schedule and report of things seen and noted 
along the way. Sometimes she had to ask Miss 
Harmon to help her out, and Patchin’s advice 
was invaluable when it came to motor terms and 
general technicalities. 

Every landmark along the mapped routes had 
to be located anew, and any variations or changes 
noted. The girls had familiarized themselves by 
now with the routine work, and entered into it 
with zest. Ted declared she was going to try and 
persuade the Senator if he regained his health 
to let her go west with the big pathfinder cars 
some day, straight over to the Pacific coast. 

‘T’ll never forget this trip, though,” she added. 
“It seemed beautiful between Queen’s Ferry and 
Richmond, but this is more — ^what shall I say? — 
stupendous. Yes, it is, too. It fairly takes your 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 


303 


breath away. I had one shock though. You 
know that gorgeous sunset night before last, 
girls, when the light lay in great quivering lakes 
of rose and amber and strange sea green? I took 
a time shot at that, a long one, and was told to- 
day that it would come out with a plain sk}% and 
that the wonderful moonlight pictures you see 
are just sunlight negatives. Isn’t that crush- 
ing?” 

“After Roanoke, we’re to try the road up to 
Mountain Lake,” Miss Penelope was saying, 
tracing the route out with her forefinger. “That 
is 4,000 feet above tidewater, girls, and you’ll see 
some lovely cascades and old Bald Knob where 
you look over five states.” 

“But I love the Blue Ridge,” protested Ted. 
It seemed as if each new road brought out fresh 
beauties until the girls fairly caught their breath 
at the unfolding splendors of the mountains. 
Here too, they found a different class of people. 
It was rarely that any men appeared at the cabin 
doors in answer to their hail. No matter how 
poor the home was, there was always an abun- 
dance of flowers. Morning glories that clam- 
bered recklessly over the shaky little timber 
porches, four o’clock’s, red and white, sunflowers 


304 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


in rich plenty, and the elder blooms along the 
edges of the meadows. 

‘Tt is the women who seem to tend them,” Miss 
Pen remarked. “And weed the vegetable gar- 
den, hoe the young corn, and look after five or 
seven younglings and an ever-present baby be- 
sides,” 

“But where are all the men?” asked Polly. 

“Fishing, going back and forth to the "settle- 
ments,’ as they call the little mountain cluster of 
houses around a store or town hall, and jogging 
back and forth behind the ox-team. Sometimes 
they go logging down the river too. I read some- 
where that that brooding look of pathos in their 
eyes comes from generations of waiting in cabin 
doors.” 

Sometimes the machine would scare up a Molly 
Cottontail out of the thicket, and it would jump 
to the center of the road, rear up, with ears high, 
and then vanish with a funny little kick and twirl 
into the tall ferns and underbrush. Once after 
a shower as the car slipped down a curving road 
into a quiet valley, Patchin warned them all to 
be silent, and pointed to the edge of the wood- 
land. A doe with two straggling fawns grazed 
daintily along the meadow where a little brook 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 305 


plunged by. In the faint misty light they looked 
like shadows, but at the first sound they took the 
rail fence, heads back, noses up, and vanished 
into the timber. 

“They’re not one bit like the western deer, are 
they?” Polly declared. “They seem so slender 
and light, like the fallow deer.” 

Another time, the road led over a low culvert, 
smothered in tall ferns, and just as they neared 
it, a head wriggled up out of the weeds, and 
grinned at them. The girls wanted to investi- 
gate but the owner waved them on, shooing them 
away mysteriously. 

“Ah mos’ got him,” he said, hoarsely. “He’s 
down back in dis yer hole, but Ah kin get in after 
him.” 

“What are you after. Uncle?” asked Miss Pen 
laughingly, ‘ ‘Rabbit ?’ ’ 

“Rabbit? No, ma’m. Dat ain’t no rabbit 
back in dere, dat’s mah Benjamin Eli. His 
Maw’s back yonder waitin’ ter give him her slip- 
per for stealin’ com cakes wi’ ’lasses on ’em, and 
he’s hidin’ on us, but Ah’ll get him in ’bout a 
minute. If you ail’d blow on dat horn he’d jes’ 
rush out.” 

So Mr. Patchin gave a long wailing call on the 


306 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


siren just as the machine was over the culvert, 
and there came an answering howl from under- 
ground. As the car sped on its way, the girls 
saw Benjamin Eli dart out from the culvert and 
get promptly snatched by his collar. 

As they neared the southwestern part of the 
state the land grew more rugged. Pointed peaks 
of rock loomed up unexpectedly, with rocky 
summits that in the wonderful sunset light looked 
like distant castles. 

One night they were overtaken by a storm on 
the mountain side, and sought shelter at a cabin 
where a lone light gleamed. It had only two 
rooms, and a sort of loft where the elder children 
slept, but the tall mountaineer made them all feel 
that they were welcome to the best he had. Tired 
and damp they clustered around the fire that 
night, and it felt good even in July. The chil- 
dren were shy and silent at first, but after a time 
they slipped out from the shadowy corners and 
listened eagerly as the girls told their adventures 
along the road. 

Mr. Patchin went up in the loft with the boys, 
and the father gave up his share of one bed too, 
so the elder children could climb in beside their 
mother and leave one bed free. Here Miss Har- 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 


307 


mon and two of the girls managed to get some 
sleep, without undressing at all, and Polly curled 
up beside Natalie and Ted on a bed of pelts and 
blankets beside the dying fire. The full moon 
shone in through the high window, and outside 
there came the cry of owls and far-off night birds. 

As Polly lay awake listening, all at once she 
heard somebody moving softly to the door. It 
stood half open. Nobody bothered to lock doors 
up there, the mother had said, smilingly. And 
in the oblong of silver light, Polly saw a little 
white figure kneel and lift its face to the sky. It 
was one of the children, a curly haired laddie 
named Davy. And he was praying softly for a 
real knife of his own. 

Hidden away among her belongings in the suit- 
case, Polly knew she had a good pearl handled 
knife with three blades and a file. So after she 
was sure he had gone back to bed, she got up and 
found it, planning a surprise for the morning. 
So at breakfast, Davy wonderingly opened the 
little thin package at his plate, and saw the knife. 
The look of dawning wonderment that over- 
spread his face was beautiful. He slipped away 
from them all, and went out on a fence rail to 
study the new treasure. After a time, before 


308 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 

the strangers left, he told his mother of the prayer 
the night before, and its answer, but he did not 
know where the knife came from, and Polly 
begged her not to tell. 

‘Tt is like a miracle to him, and after all,” she 
said. ‘Tt was an answer, for I might have been 
asleep and not have heard him at all.” 

Miss Harmon had stopped to settle the account 
for the supper, breakfast, and night’s lodging, 
and here one of the strangest surprises of the 
journey appeared. The tall mountaineer re- 
fused to take any money. They were his guests, 
he insisted. It wasn’t often that any folks came 
up over the mountain and stayed with him, and 
when they did he was proud to entertain them. 

They had eaten fried salt pork and corn cake 
twice, with some berries, but it was as if they had 
feasted with some royal sovereign. There was 
the same plenteous air of largesse, the same un- 
stinted hospitality. They looked back and 
waved at the lonely group standing in front of 
the sunflowers. 

“Those are the kind of men that made our 
western Virginia what it was in the early days,” 
Miss Penelope declared. “They were the most 
daring and hardy, and they fought the Indians 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 309 


and wild animals to make their homes safe. In 
a way they are a little like the Gaels of northern 
Ireland and parts of Scotland in their pride and 
clannishness. Did you hear the name the eldest 
boy called his squirrel rifle, girls?” 

“Bonnie Beauty, wasn’t it?” Polly said. “He 
told us folks always call their guns pet 
names.” 

They had planned to meet the girls at Staun- 
ton, but were not expecting any reception. It 
was late Saturday afternoon when they came 
leisurely along the main road from Lexington 
into Staunton. It was so good, Polly said, to 
strike a stretch of macadamized road that she 
took the wheel herself, and just went along at 
low speed to enjoy every minute of it. 

Suddenly a car shot out of the road ahead of 
them with pennants flying bravely, and before 
they could guess who it was there was a blast 
from a deep-toned horn, and tin carnival trum- 
pets blowing at them, and over all Crullers’s ex- 
cited squeals of delight. 

“We came to meet you,” she called out. “Oh, 
girls, we’ve been waiting on this road for two 
hours for you to turn up.” 

“Well, we’re here,” laughed Polly, as they all 


310 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


half tumbled out of the car to greet Mrs. Lee and 
Isabel in the tonneau. 

There were three strange girls with them, 
friends they had made at the hotel, who had 
wanted to be in the welcoming party, and Isabel 
introduced them all around. Two were sisters 
from Kentucky, Vera and Betty Morris, and the 
tallest one was a Virginia girl like themselves, 
from Staunton, Margery Lawrence. 

“They are coming to Calvert this fall,” Crul- 
lers announced. “And they want to join our 
club, Polly.” 

“The more the merrier,” Polly said happily, 
liking the girls the minute she saw them. “I 
know you’ll love the old school just as we all do.” 

“Now, over Sunday, you will be my guests,” 
Mrs. Lee said. “Miss Harmon needs a little 
rest, I am sure, so we will go direct to the hotel, 
and after that I will play chaperon, if she does 
not mind.” 

“Mind?” laughed Miss Penelope. “I haven’t 
had a decent night’s rest since we left Richmond. 
If it hasn’t been bats, it has been chicken sand- 
wiches and lemonade at unearthly hours, or Polly 
would start laying out new plans just as we were 
all drifting peacefully into dreamland. I shall 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 311 


be most glad to lay my head on a pillow even for 
two days.” 

‘T thought the girls would enjoy seeing the 
famous Grottoes of the Shenandoah while they 
were so near,” Mrs. Lee added. ‘‘We have been 
there several times, and every year I seem to find 
something more wonderful ; so if you like, Mon- 
day we will go there, and I can leave you to make 
the journey on northward.” 

“And take Hallie and Natalie back with you,” 
Polly said. “They must be delivered safe and 
sound at Calvert Hall, Miss Honoria said.” 

“They had better come with me until you re- 
turn,” Mrs. Lee replied, smiling. “I shall be 
lonely without Isabel, and with the Senator and 
Mrs. Yates away, it will be lonely for Hallie. I 
will promise to take good care of them.” 

Sunday passed peacefully at Staunton. They 
all went to service, and later wrote home letters, 
and rested for the new start on the morrow. It 
was an early one. Patchin said the caves lay 
about fifty miles northward along the' beautiful 
hill country of the Shenandoah river. 

“Thomas Jefferson visited them,” Miss Penel- 
ope told them. “And it was he who first really 
told the world of the Natural Bridge we passed 


312 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Friday, girls, so you must do homage to the Sage 
of Monticello.” 

“The old dear,” murmured Ted appreciatively, 
as they neared the caves. ‘T got some dandy 
snapshots of the Bridge, and the Lace Water- 
falls. I wonder if I can take any pictures in the 
Caves.” 

When they reached the entrance Polly and 
Miss Penelope led the way. The guide was ex- 
plaining how the great cave was accidentally dis- 
covered by a man who hunted a ground hog to 
its hole, and found the aperture leading down 
into the wonderful Weyer’s Cave. A hush fell 
on the girls as they entered the vast hall of beauty. 
All about them rose the towering pinnacles of 
stalactites and stalagmites, some in sentinel form, 
others bursting over in crystalline splendor like 
some frozen cataract. 

They did not carry torches, as the caves were 
lighted by electricity and this radiance seemed to 
add to the brilliancy of the formations. 

“I do like the names here,” said Sue, jotting 
some down in her note book. “The Diamond 
Bank, and the Leaning Tower, and the Lady 
Washington Grotto. What was that last, Ted?” 

“The Robbers’ Den,” prompted Ted. “I like 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 


313 


the Enchanted Moors in the Cathedral best of 
all. What do you suppose made all these things 
take such queer shapes. Miss Pen?” 

Miss Penelope smiled, and shook her head. 

“The wise people give us many explanations, 
but, after all, who knows the truth? How long 
ago did it happen? As you say, why have they 
tangible shapes that we can recognize? It is like 
rambling through some enchanted garden from 
Dore. I have been in the famous Salt Mines in 
Austria, and in the strange caves in the Dolo- 
mites too, where they have found remains of the 
cave tiger and of the most primitive people in 
southern Europe, they say, but these surpass 
them in beauty.” 

“And right under our noses too,” exclaimed 
Polly. “I never realized they were so wonderful 
and so near. Did you notice that one lone figure 
wrapped in a cloak back in Cathedral Hall? 
The guide says they call it Washington.” 

When they emerged from the caves it was close 
to two o’clock, and Mrs. Lee produced a well- 
stocked hamper for lunch to be eaten under the 
broad pavilions at the foot of Cave Hill. Sue 
and Isabel pored over the local roads on Polly’s 
precious maps, for it was all new to Lady Van- 


314 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


itas, and she had already forgotten to adjust her 
pretty shirred silk bonnet every two minutes. 

“There are the Luray Caverns too,” said Mrs. 
Lee. “You mustn’t miss those either, girls. I 
am sure they will be on your route.” 

“They’re on the main line, I think,” answered 
Miss Penelope. “We are going to test out a few 
of the new short cuts, and come back from Har- 
risonburg to try the old Pike. I thought as long 
as we were bound that way, we might go a bit 
further to give the girls a look at the mountain 
ranges before we go up the National road.” 

At Harrisonburg the girls found letters await- 
ing them. One from Cary to Polly was especi- 
ally interesting. It said that the Senator and 
Mrs. Yates would return from their cruise that 
week, and after a week of rest they wanted the 
girls to be sure to visit them for a few days down 
at White Chimneys at the end of the trip. 

“Randy and I are going, so be sure to come,” it 
ended. 

Crullers provided all of the fun during the 
first few days after her arrival. Even Patchin 
admitted she was over zealous. Every car they 
passed she insisted on saluting with the siren, not 
in a friendly fashion, but in a challenging way. 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 315 


She yearned to race. She was allowed to carry 
the laundry to the post office to send by parcel 
post to Queen’s Ferry, and lost it on the way. 

“How could you lose such a large parcel?” de- 
manded Ted. 

“I didn’t lose it, Ted. I just mislaid it,” 
Crullers protested tearfully. 

“Where did you go besides the post office?” 
artfully. 

“To the drug store at the corner.” 

“For ice cream soda?” 

“No. For joss sticks to burn and scare away 
the mosquitoes,” faltered Crullers. “Ted, you’re 
almost brutal with me. I know it’s in the drug 
store.” 

“Then go and get it, goose,” Ted insisted. 

“But I can’t. It’s closed for the night, and 
they say the man who runs it lives miles away.” 

Ted smiled grimly at the twilight view of Cat- 
ersville, the meagre little town they had just 
stopped in to mail the laundry. 

“Well, let’s break the news to the rest. We 
stay here over night.” 

But Polly said no. Time was too precious. 
So they coaxed a little barefooted youngster to 
climb in and guide them out to the druggist’s 


316 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


home, routed him away from his supper, and took 
him back bodily, bareheaded and somewhat in- 
dignant to his store, where, sure enough, Crul- 
lers found her parcel just where she had left it 
squeezed discreetly down between the ice cream 
soda stand and the telephone booth. 

It was only two mornings later that Sue res- 
cued the supply of eggs just as Crullers was 
about to place them in the cosy fireless cooker 
nest “to boil.” 

“Why, I knew there wasn’t a fire in it, of 
course,” she protested, “but I thought it must be 
heated in there someway.” 

“Crullers will grow up and study chemistry, 
and before we know it, she will have invented a 
way of concentrating solar rays to boil eggs,” said 
Polly. 

But after they had been with the party for 
three days, both of the girls settled down to real 
work with the rest, and Isabel became a splendid 
forager. She had charming manners, and de- 
lighted in approaching strange cabin doors and 
buying supplies. Polly declared she could scent 
a peach or pear tree a mile away, and deliberately 
judge its possibilities in passing, all ready to 
pounce on the owner and buy a supply. 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 317 

Once they had reached the mountain region 
above the National Pike, they came across 
strange ox-drawn “steamboat” wagons, some- 
times with small bare-footed lads astride, some- 
times with mountain girls, barefooted, with sun- 
bonnets set low down over their faces, driving 
along unsmilingly, almost hopelessly. 

Up near the state line they met a jolly old ped- 
dler with his pack on his back, bound for Ken- 
tucky by way of the Gap. 

“My name’s Happy, and I’m happy by nature 
too. Sun’s always shone right squar’ bang in 
my face ever since I was born,” he told them. 
“My dad was a peddler, and my mother traveled 
with him on a tin wagon. Yes, siree. Sweetest 
music I ever knew was them tin pails a- jingling 
when he j ogged down the road. Good-bye, girls. 
I’m going to give every single one of you a bright 
new tin cup to drink from at the brooks and 
springs along the way, jest to remember old 
Happy by.” 

And he kept his word. Each one, even Miss 
Penelope, received a new tin cup, and they came 
in handy, just as he said they would. 

By the time they had turned back to the pike 
again, they had begun to feel like old seasoned 


318 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


motorists. Patchin had even taught them how to 
detect the slightest variation in the throb of the 
motor, and how to tell the make of the different 
machines they met by the “tune” of them, as he 
put it. The irresistible spirit of the open was 
on them now, and Polly wished they could go 
straight on with old Happy, through the Gap 
into Kentucky, and so on westward, over the 
old trails of the first pioneers. 

In one of their mountain climbs they met a 
man on horseback, riding as hard as he could. 
His face looked haggard and grey under his 
broad brimmed felt hat, as he reined up. 

“Say, strangers,” he said huskily. “You’re 
women folks. My little gal’s mighty sick up 
yonder. I’m goin’ down nine miles after the 
doctor. Mehbe you ail’d stop in and see if you 
can do anything for her. Her Maw’s there too, 
but she’s so nervous she’s jes’ shakin’ like a leaf.” 

Patchin said little, hut he always acted quickly. 
In less than fifteen minutes, he had whizzed the 
girls up to the cabin, turned, taken the father 
into the machine, and sped away with him after 
the doctor, leaving the old grey horse standing in 
the bare front yard switching flies with its tail 
lazily. 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 319 


Indoors, the girls stepped timidly. It was 
very warm and there were no curtains at the win- 
dows. On a bed in the shade lay a girl about 
nine, sobbing pitifully, and on her knees beside 
the bed was the mother, her face in her hands, 
praying. 

Miss Penelope’s sturdy arm went around her 
shoulders at once. 

“Now, you cheer right up,” she said. “We’ve 
sent for the doctor with the machine, and he’ll 
be here in a jiffy. It’s just a blessing we came 
this way. What ails the girlie?” 

“She’s eaten something pizen,” moaned the 
woman helplessly. 

Miss Penelope dropped her long silk motor 
cloak, took off her hat and gloves, and set to 
work. The child moaned, and seemed alter- 
nately feverish, then chilled. She said she had 
pains in her throat and her head and her stomach, 
and the girls hurried around doing Miss Pen- 
elope’s bidding, heating water on the rickety 
stove, clearing up the dinner dishes that lay 
tumbled around, and chasing out the chickens 
and young pigs that insisted on sharing the cabin 
space. 

“They won’t do no harm,” said the lady of the 


320 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


house, wearily. ‘‘They’re kind of pets for Mat- 
tie there. She likes ’em to come in.” 

“Do you really think she’s eaten anything poi- 
sonous?” Polly asked Miss Harmon when she had 
a chance. 

“I can’t say. She’s very ill just now, but you 
can’t tell.” 

“Let me look at her lips,” said Polly, remem- 
bering the old fairy tale of “The Queen Bee,” 
and how the bee detected which of the princesses 
had been eating honey. She went softly to the 
bed, and leaned far over the pallid little face, with 
the closed eyelids, and beads of perspiration 
standing coldly on the forehead and upper lip. 
Cautiously she parted the lips, and sniffed. 
There was a slight brown discoloration too at the 
corners of the mouth. 

“Well?” whispered Miss Penelope anxiously. 

“It smells just like tobacco,” Polly answered 
in surprise. 

The two looked at each other for a minute, 
then Polly patted the child on her shoulder 
gently. 

“Listen, dear,” she said distinctly. “Where 
did you leave the pipe?” 

“Up on the chimney,” whispered the child 


ON MOUNTAIN TRAILS 321 

faintly. ‘T was jes’ tryin’ to smoke like grand- 
pop.” 

When the young doctor arrived, he heard the 
story and laughed heartily over it. 

“These mountaineers all smoke and the women 
mostly use snufF too,” he said. “It is deplorable, 
of course, but her father wasn’t very far wrong. 
Mattie surely had been eating something 
‘pizen.’ ” 

Before they went on over Tuggles’ Gap, Mat- 
tie Tuggles could sit up and wave a weak good- 
bye after them, and Mrs. Tuggles was scolding 
fitfully at the old grandfather for leaving his 
precious old pipe within reach of Mattie’s quest- 
ing little hands feeling along the chimney shelf. 

It was only one of the many heart stories the 
girls found on their journey, and it went down in 
the “log” opposite the point marked Tuggles’ 
Gap. The next day they turned eastward to- 
wards the last lap of the trip, and Polly sent word 
down to Mrs. Yates that they would be at White 
Chimneys by the following Monday. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 

‘T don’t know whether to hand in our final 
report to Senator Yates or to the headquarters 
of the Roads Committee,” said Ted, looking up 
critically from a batch of prints she had just re- 
ceived. ‘T have separated all our personal pic- 
tures from those to be submitted to the commit- 
tee, and will mount and label each one with date 
of taking. Polly and Sue, you will manage the 
general write up on conditions — ” 

“Miss Pen says she’ll help us at the last. I 
think it has been perfectly splendid for a four 
weeks’ trip. When you think of the ground we 
have covered and the way we have zigzagged 
back and forth over the old unused roads, and 
had time to spend more than one day in places to 
rest up, why, it seems like a dream.” 

“Polly,” interrupted Crullers with one of her 
maddening digressions, “do lemon verbenas grow 
as high as chestnut trees in California? Isabel 
says they do.” 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 323 


‘Tf you and Isabel would both drop your argu- 
ing and help figure up expenses, it would be far 
more commendable,” Ted said with dignity. 
“Who gives a rap for lemon verbenas? Crullers 
you are really a case.” 

Crullers relapsed into passive meekness. 
They had spent three days making the journey 
from the Shenandoah Valley south towards We- 
noka. There had been such wonderful sights 
to see, the time had passed like a swift succession 
of moving pictures. They had spent half a day 
at the beautiful Luray caverns, wandering 
through their three miles of splendor, and had 
visited some of the famous battlefields, but these 
Polly dreaded. 

“It was all so cruel, just like some big family 
quarrel,” she said, after they had passed over the 
Wilderness Road. 

“Those are always the saddest and most bit- 
ter,” Penelope told her. 

“But there must have been some other way out 
than leaving these graves scattered all over Vir- 
ginia and the other states. I will be glad when 
we get away from them, for I always get so in- 
dignant and heartsick.” 

The two last days of the actual business trip 


324 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


were spent in Washington. Here the girls were 
on familiar ground, as once each school year. Miss 
Calvert took her flock up to the Capitol and 
there was very little she left unseen. Polly 
wrote to the Admiral from here that she 
would be glad to turn towards Wenoka, for there 
was so much to see and write about, she felt like 
a squirrel in a cage, twirling around. 

As they neared Wenoka, though, the girls felt 
a little chill of apprehension. Mrs. Yates had 
written cordially, renewing the invitation just as 
if nothing had happened to their fortunes. Mar- 
bury was still at home, and Cary had come down 
from Richmond with Randy, so it was like a re- 
union when they all assembled once again in the 
great hall. 

Mrs. Yates met them, and apparently, she had 
not changed since the day they left Queen’s 
Ferry. There was perhaps a little weary droop 
to her eyelids when she was not speaking, but 
her smile was as gracious and cheery, and she 
watched the tall figure of the Senator like a 
mother with a child. 

Marbury was always close to his father, Polly 
noticed. While there was no suggestion of in- 
validism in the Senator’s appearance, yet he 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 325 


seemed oddly changed. His eyes, always so 
shrewd and merry, had their old glint of humor 
in them, but the same as with Mrs. Yates, when 
he ceased speaking, the little mask of courage 
seemed to fall ever so slightly, and show the sor- 
row that lay behind it. 

“You must make this the happiest visit you 
have ever had at White Chimneys, Hallie,” her 
uncle said, pinching her cheek. “Long years 
back, when we were young people, my mother 
gave a masque ball for me here. There were 
very few such aiFairs then, and I remember how 
happy we all were. So in talking it over, your 
visit here this beautiful summertime, we have de- 
cided to give you a masquerade. It will be novel 
and full of old time merriment. What do you 
say, Polly?” 

Polly leaned forward breathlessly. 

“Oh, it’s splendid of you and Mrs. Yates, Sen- 
ator,” she exclaimed. “But we haven’t any cos- 
tumes or masks.” 

“You will find some. Mrs. Yates and Penel- 
ope will soon drape you up. I have written to 
the Admiral, and he may rim down. The invita- 
tions are out and I think I shall dress as the old 
White Chimneys pirate myself.” 


326 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


“ ’Ware the ghost!” Penelope said, warningly. 
‘‘He may appear, and resent it.” 

“I think any old pirate that ever lived should 
be proud to have the Senator represent him,” Ted 
declared. 

But for two days the girls, in spite of being 
tired from their trip, plunged into the fun of the 
masquerade preparations gaily. They followed 
Penelope up to the third story into the great old 
attic, and ransacked trunks and chests for cos- 
tumes. Polly poked around, looking at the wide 
old oak beams, and seeing how they were all put 
together with huge wooden pegs. High on the 
cross beams were the old looms with the linen 
loops still on them, and spinning wheels, reels, 
and the little flax wheels stood around, with so 
many ancient objects the girls stayed up there 
for hours at a time, looking them over. 

“We have plenty of costumes,” Penelope said, 
sitting in the midst of the upheaval. “Here’s 
silk, satin, calico, rags, girls. You may be colo- 
nial dames, or hoopskirted dames of the sixties. 
There’s a white mulle with festoons of rosebuds 
for you, Polly. Here’s an old coat of Judge 
Yates’. See the funny pointed collar, and the 
hand cut jet buttons and quilted lining.” 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 327. 

‘Dh, Miss Pen,” exclaimed Ted, brushing up 
her hair until it stood on end in front. “Can’t I 
please go as the old Judge? I’d love to. I can 
find an old waistcoat and trousers, I know I can, 
and this coat. Please let me.” 

“Why, I don’t care, child,” Penelope replied. 
“Go as Methusaleh if you can find a suitable cos- 
tume. Mrs. Yates has ordered the masks from 
Richmond, so you’ll have those tomorrow. Sue, 
that’s an old green riding habit that I can re- 
member Aunt Betty Marbury wearing when she 
was a girl. It will just about fit you.” 

Sue put it on, and buttoned it up from collar 
to hem with the odd crocheted buttons, black silk 
over wooden molds. It fit her fairly well, and 
Crullers discovered the hat and veil that went 
with it. 

“All I need is the crop now,” said Sue, pacing 
pack and forth. “But what a lot of skirt they 
did have in those days. Here’s a silk loop to 
hold it up, girls. I like the cross saddle skirts 
better that we had out west.” 

Polly was passing upstairs the evening of the 
masquerade to dress for dinner, when she saw the 
door of the library open, and Mrs. Yates came 
out. The great hall below was empty. It was 


328 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


somewhat cool, and a low fire burned in the fire- 
place. She went over to it, and rested her head 
on one hand, leaned on the mantelpiece, looking 
down at the embers. And Polly, with one of her 
sudden impulsive waves, said softly: 

“Mrs. Yates, I’m awfully sorry.” 

“Why, Polly, is it you?” Mrs. Yates started, 
and looked up, but with her quick sympathetic 
smile. “What is it, dear? Something gone 
wrong?” 

Polly came downstairs, and slipped one arm 
around her. 

“Not with us. I meant about — you know, 
about the Senator. He has been so kind to us 
girls, and has helped us realize all our dreams, 
and now it seems terrible for him to have to sufF er 
in that way.” 

“You mean for kindness to a friend?” Mrs. 
Yates smiled. “I know he was glad to render 
it, dear, and never has begrudged it. We could 
not tell that the friend would pass away, and 
leave the burden for another. If he had been 
younger, and in better health, I do not think the 
shock would have been so great, but he is very 
much attached to White Chimneys, of course, 
and it must go first, I am told.” 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 329 

“Then will you live up at Washington?” 

“I hardly know. If the Senator’s health fails 
to improve, we may give up all public life for him, 
and go away quietly somewhere. It is harder 
for Marbury than for us, really, but he is a dear 
brave lad.” 

“But that won’t make any difference with his 
marrying Cary?” 

“None at all.” She smiled and looked down 
at the gleam of the fire, steady and warm. 
“Theirs is not the kind of love that is dependent 
upon wordly goods, and they are both young. 
We will give them all we are able, and I know the 
way to happiness lies straight before them.” 

Polly’s forehead puckered in a puzzled little 
frown. 

“It does seem as if there must be some way,” 
she said, earnestly. “Whenever one is sure they 
are really right, it seems there must be some way 
out.” 

“Run and dress now, dear.” Mrs. Yates bent 
and kissed the eager upturned face. “We can 
only hope and trust that everything will come 
out right. The Senator is looking over your 
account of the trip now in the library, and is 
greatly amused at the daily ‘log.’ ” 


330 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


‘‘But is he satisfied that we did the work all 
right?” 

“Completely. I don’t think that he really 
thought you would keep at it so faithfully for 
the full four weeks, and follow his directions.” 

“Don’t you? Oh, the girls will all be so 
pleased if he is satisfied, for they have worked 
hard. We used to wonder sometimes whether 
we were doing everything right, but we had Miss 
Harmon to direct, and Patchin was wonderful. 
We couldn’t have made the trip without Patchin, 
I know.” 

Before she went upstairs, Mrs. Yates told her 
to stop in the library for a few minutes to get 
the Senator’s own opinion first hand. 

He sat at his desk, his head bent forward a 
little, leaning on both hands as though his eyes 
ached. At first Polly hesitated, thinking he had 
fallen asleep, but he glanced up at her footfall 
behind him, and smiled. 

“Well, Captain of the expedition,” he said, as 
Polly dropped into the chair beside him. “I 
congratulate you. The report is satisfactory, 
and a surprise too. I have never seen a path- 
finding report so full of local color. You cer- 
tainly did not miss anything, did you?” 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 331 

“Oh, there was lots we didn’t put down,” 
Polly replied seriously. “But it’s all in our own 
logbook. Did you like that ?” 

“Immensely.” The Senator chuckled, half 
closing his eyes as he leaned back his head. 
“How many pictures did you take?” 

“I’m not sure. Ted looked after that. 
About twenty cartridges, I think. And there 
are eight exposures in each cartridge, but Ted 
used a lot for just personal pictures.” 

“You can send me the impersonal ones when 
you have them ready. Those that we can use 
will go in the bill.” 

“Will it be — ” Polly hesitated, but knew how 
the girls would question her upstairs. “Will it 
be a very large bill. Senator Yates?” 

“I think you can safely count on a hundred 
dollars off your expenses, and possibly more. 
We will know better after we see the pictures. 
But you have gone over every road marked down 
for you, and have reported conditions faithfully, 
besides supplying your own car and chauffeur. 
We will look after you properly, Polly, for it 
has saved special trips over these outlying un- 
familiar roads.” 

“I’m glad,” sighed Polly. “Now that it’s all 


332 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


over, it seems a little bit daring to have tried it, 
but we did have such a perfectly dandy time. 
Senator.” 

Here Ted called over the upper balustrade for 
her to come at once and help dress up the rest. 
They were all in Miss Harmon’s room with their 
‘‘togs” as Ted dubbed the costumes. Piled on 
the couch they were, riding habit. Judge’s suit, 
white mulle, and a green silk covered with black 
Chantilly lace that Hallie was to don. 

“It belonged to my great-great-great grand- 
mother, Polly,” she said, wriggling into its vol- 
uminous folds, and settling the billows of narrow 
ruffles. “Where’s my handbag?” 

“Reticule, Hallie,” Penelope prompted. She 
handed over a silk lined one, with beaded roses 
outside, and Hallie tied on a little lace cap with 
coral loveknots pinning up its ruffles. 

“That looks lovely, Hallie,” Polly exclaimed. 
“Can I help you. Crullers?” 

“Oh, dear, I don’t know,” groaned Crullers, 
trying to squeeze into some high heeled satin 
slippers. “There’s my dress if you can make 
head or tail to it. These slippers pinch me so.” 

“Don’t wear them then,” said Polly practi- 
cally. 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 333 

“But I have to, Polly. Everybody’s feet were 
pinched in these slippers way back. It was 
fashionable to be pinched. I’m going to wear 
three prince’s feathers in my hair too, some that 
the Lady Philippa Yates really wore when she 
was presented to the King and Queen — which 
court was it. Miss Pen?” 

“George the Third, or maybe it was William 
and Mary, I declare I can’t keep track of all of 
them,” Penelope was on her knees beside Isabel, 
pinning up her Grecian robes. “I wish Natalie 
could have been in this too.” 

“So do I,” said Hallie. “But she had to meet 
her father in New York when he landed, and so I 
came straight on here because I wouldn’t have 
missed this for the world after Aunt Margaret 
wrote and told me.” 

“You’ll trip over this train sure as fate. Crul- 
lers,” said Polly, holding up the long narrow gar- 
ment. It was pink brocaded satin, edged in nar- 
row velvet ribbon and lace. Crullers had slipped 
on the pretty quilted petticoat, and panniers. 

“Yes, I can, too, Polly. Hand me the bodice, 
somebody, please. Look at all these tiny crystal 
buttons, Polly.” 

“You’ll tumble just the same, buttons or no 


334 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


buttons,” Polly prophesied. “You’ll never man- 
age that train in this world, Crullers.” 

“Well, I’ll have a good try at it, and if I do 
tumble, it’s my own doings,” Crullers insisted. 

Polly was the last to dress. The white mulle 
had been her choice, with its quaint full skirt, 
festooned in lace and rosebuds. Penelope 
dressed her hair in the style of the early sixties, 
little clusters of side curls, the high comb in the 
back, and a spray of late pink roses twined into a 
wreath. 

She made a low curtsy before the oval mirror 
that hung in the upper hall, when they passed 
downstairs, a habit she had had since almost baby- 
hood. Welcome had always chuckled at her 
grave curtsies to the other child in the mirrors, 
and tonight she did it with an odd feeling of 
dancing away from the reaching arms of grown- 
ups. The years were passing swiftly. She was 
fifteen now. Only one more year remained at 
Calvert, and after that came the real college days, 
unless the Admiral decided to take her on the 
world cruise instead. 

The girl who bowed back to her seemed a vision 
of the coming Polly five years hence. Just for 
a moment, Polly hesitated behind all the other 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 335 

girls, and returned the long earnest glance of her 
mirrored self, then she gave a quick sigh, and ran 
down after Sue, picking up her full skirts in each 
hand. 

The Admiral had been expected on the early 
train, but Marbury returned in the machine with- 
out him. There was another chance of his arriv- 
ing on the eight-thirty local, the Senator told the 
girls, and they were on the alert with anticipa- 
tion. 

The great center hall had never looked so 
lovely. Great jars filled with pink and white 
stocks stood around in corners, backed with the 
dark green of mountain laurel. Flowering al- 
mond and quince fairly glowed in shadowy spots 
here and there, and oleanders and azaleas were 
grouped around the entrances, whose arches 
draped in southern smilax seemed openings into 
some woodland fairyland. 

Marbury dressed in a Pierrot costume was 
master of ceremonies. Randy was an Indian 
chief, and the two stood at the open doors as car- 
riage after carriage deposited young guests 
before White Chimneys. Polly moved around in 
a maze. She wore a small white silk half mask, 
and her lips were parted in a smile of pure radiant 


836 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


fun. Now a dancing bear tugged at her sleeve, 
and she turned around to face a laughing pick- 
aninny picking on a banjo. 

When Mrs. Yates seated herself at the piano 
and played the grand march, the choosing of part- 
ners was hilarious. Twice Crullers half tumbled 
over her long train in the march, but Randy was 
her partner, and he held her up pluckily. 

During the second dance Polly noticed her sit- 
ting by herself on the broad staircase. 

“My slipper pinches awfully,” she said, tug- 
ging at it. “I just had to come here and get it 
off for a minute.” 

“But they’re forming for a grand promenade 
all around the house and the garden. Marbury’s 
leading, and there’s a prize for the one that fol- 
lows him to the end.” 

‘T don’t care, Polly.” Crullers was almost sob- 
bing. “It hurts my toe, and I couldn’t prom- 
enade for seventeen golden prizes on silver 
trays.” 

“But they’re coming this way.” Polly leaned 
over the balustrade. The music came up in a 
triumphant swell of melody, and there was the 
laughter just below in the hall. The Pierrot was 
leading, twirling his folly stick, and dancing, with 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 337 

a quaint figure by his side, Evangeline in tender 
grey and little lace cap. 

“There’s Cary now,” exclaimed Polly. “I 
didn’t know what she was to wear. Do get up, 
Crullers, so we can get in line.” 

But Crullers groaned and shrank against the 
side of the wall with its heavy old carved wain- 
scoting. The masqueraders were turning at the 
foot of the stairs. Polly, laughing and trying to 
hurry Crullers out of the way, almost lost her 
presence of mind. 

“Please, please try. Crullers,” she begged, 
helping her to her feet. “You can surely carry 
the slipper and hop.” 

“Wait, I’ll try,” said poor Crullers, and she 
balanced herself on one foot like a stork, leaned 
against the wall, and tried to put on the offend- 
ing slipper. 

And suddenly the carved wood under her hand 
seemed to slip away from her. Backward it 
pressed a few inches, and then moved down per- 
haps a foot, disclosing a deep, dark recess. 

Crullers stared at what she had done with open 
mouth, and wide frightened eyes. She seized 
Polly’s arm for support. 

“Polly, look there? What is it?” 


338 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


The rest were crowding up the stairs to see too, 
but Polly held up her hand, and called out. 

“Oh, please wait just a minute. Something’s 
happened. Where’s Senator Yates?” 

But Marbury sprang up the steps three at a 
time. 

“Don’t tell him anything suddenly,” he begged. 
“We are guarding him against any shock. 
What’s the trouble?” 

“Look!” Polly pointed at the aperture. 
“Crullers just put her hand on it, and it did that.” 

Marbury reached his hand far back in the re- 
cess. It seemed to widen on either side. His 
white sleeve was covered with dust as he drew his 
arm back. 

“There’s something back in there if I can reach 
it,” he said. “Boys, lift me up.” 

Some of the boy guests pressed forward, and 
raised him to a level with the opening so he could 
try again, and this time he brought out an old 
brown canvas bag, tied around and around with 
heavy cord. 

“There’s more than that,” he said, reaching in 
again. 

The music had stopped, and Mrs. Yates hur- 
ried to see what had caused the crowding on the 


THE MASQUERADE SURPRISE 339 

stairs and excitement. The bag was handed 
from one to another until it reached her, and she 
held it in wonderment, watching Marbury. 

“There’s another one,” he said, drawing out a 
dusty head and another bag. “It’s packed with 
them in the back, just packed with them. Here’s 
something different.” He held up an old red 
morocco wallet, worn almost to its original tan. 
The flap went around it twice. He carried it 
down to his mother, and they waited while she 
undid it. Somewhere back in his study, the Sen- 
ator had retired for a quiet rest. And inside 
the wallet was a folded parchment, yellow with 
age, the writing barely decipherable. 

J ust at that moment of suspense Polly, stand- 
ing a little to one side, thought how strange they 
all looked, in their fantastic costumes, grouped 
close around the table in hushed expectancy, wait- 
ing for this long hidden message from what hand? 

“You read it, Marbury, dear,” said Mrs. Yates. 
“I can’t seem to see the words.” 

And Marbury obeyed, reading aloud in his 
clear boyish voice with Cary hanging over his 
shoulder, standing tiptoe on a stool to see better. 

“To the World that hath Denied me My Priv- 
ileged Rights, I, Humphrey Bancroft, Pirate and 


340 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Outlaw and onetime Gentleman of Bancroft 
Hall, Cornwall, England, do give and bequeath 
to the family or descendants of Percival Yates, 
all my Worldly Goods here contained in these 
Sacks. For that he of God’s Mercy and his own 
Faire Kindnesse did give me Shelter and Succor 
in great houre of Neede, so do I now give unto 
him and to his children my share of wealth taken 
the 16th Day of August, 1679, from the Spanish 
galleon, Santa Maria Costanza. Peace to my 
Soul and God’s Sweete Mercy. I sign my name 
in testament, 


'Humpheey Bancroft.” 


CHAPTER XX 


A VOTE OF THANKS 

The night was so filled with excitement and 
merriment, that it was not until the following 
morning, anything definite could be learned of 
what was in the sacks of poor Humphrey Ban- 
croft, “onetime gentleman.” 

The Admiral arrived a little past nine, and re- 
joiced with them all over the strange discovery. 

He patted Crullers on her towsled head, as she 
stood ruefully staring at the wreck of the wain- 
scoting. 

“Jane Daphne, you surely started something 
of importance that time if you never did before. 
You shall go down in history as the saver of des- 
tinies at White Chimneys. Bless my heart and 
soul, Polly, Marbury is bringing down more 
sacks.” 

There were twenty-eight in all, each about the 
size of a salt bag, as Penelope put it, and as each 
was opened, there lay the dull glint of old, long- 
hidden gold. 


342 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Mrs. Yates went into the study to break the 
tidings to the Senator. He lay back in his fav- 
orite chair, dozing, his eyeglasses slipping off his 
nose, and Toby Belch, the big Maltese cat, sound 
asleep on his lap. 

No one knew what passed between them in 
there, but in a few minutes they emerged, the 
Senator’s arm around Mrs. Yates’s waist, and 
he walked without his cane for the first time in 
weeks, Polly noticed. Without saying very 
many words, he stood beside the Admiral and 
looked down at the treasure. 

“Bread cast upon the waters,” said Polly 
softly, “shall return after many days as plum- 
cake.” 

“The poor lad,” the Senator remarked, holding 
up the faded piece of parchment. “He must 
have suff ered in mind and body too. How could 
he have dreamt anyone would ever discover 
the hidden horde unless he intended telling of 
it.” 

“Perhaps he did tell, and Percival Yates died 
before he could pass the secret on,” suggested the 
Admiral. 

The girls speculated and guessed about how 
much the sacks contained. Isabel was sure there 


A VOTE OF THANKS 


343 


must be millions, but Ted said it was all Spanish 
money anyway, and would have to be changed 
into good American eagles. One thing was cer- 
tain, the Admiral told them later, there was 
plenty to lift all financial anxiety from the Sena- 
tor’s shoulders. 

Cmllers was summoned to the study after 
breakfast, and went half frightened and sur- 
prised, but when she came back she was all smiley 
tears and excitement. 

‘T can go through college if I like, the Senator 
says. He wanted me to take some of the treas- 
ure, but I knew mother would never let me do 
that and I told him so, so he said I would always 
be a ward of White Chimneys, and he would pay 
for all my schooling. Goodness, I know how 
handy that will come in right now, too,” she 
added, sagely. “Because the boys are growing 
like weeds, and will have to go to some good school 
next year, and I thought I’d have to give up Cal- 
vert, girls.” 

“Give up Calvert, our noble Crullers!” cried 
Ted. “What would we do without Crullers to 
scold and put the blame on. Don’t you care. 
Crullers, you are famous forever, you and your 
high heeled slippers that pinched.” 


344 POLLY PAGE MOTOR CLUB 


Polly looked up from her packing. Six suit- 
cases lay around on Penelope’s floor, almost 
ready to close. Mrs. Yates had given each girl 
the costume she had worn at the masquerade for 
a souvenir, and Polly patted down the white tulle 
lovingly. It had been such a glorious climax to 
the summer, this clearing of clouds over dear 
White Chimneys. Down in the rose garden she 
could see Marbury and Cary, walking close to- 
gether through the hedge bordered paths. 
Randy was out at the garage with Patchin. The 
girls had all gone down in a body to wish Patchin 
good-bye, and present him with a gold watch that 
the Admiral had selected for him imder Polly’s 
orders. 

Patchin had been surprised and horribly em- 
barrassed, but he thanked them all, and fondled 
the watch in his hands. 

“They were a mighty busy lot of young ladies,” 
he remarked, which was high praise from Patchin, 
the Senator said. “They all worked like beavers 
on those roads, but Miss Polly, she’s the latest 
model, and the last word in speed.” 

“Girls,” Polly said how, hugging her knees, 
and rocking a little, as she always did. “We’ve 
made all expenses and a hundred over, the Sen- 


A VOTE OF THANKS 


345 


ator says. I feel awfully comfy inside some- 
how, and contented, don’t you?” 

“Do we?” Sue stood up, and ran her fingers 
through her hair vigorously. “Polly, we’re so 
happy and puff ed up in our own conceit — ” 

Ted’s hand closed over her mouth. 

“Madam President, may I make a motion?” 

“Fire ahead, but it’s irregular,” laughed Polly. 

“I move that we extend a vote of thanks to 
Senator Yates for helping us, and to Patchin for 
helping us, and to Miss Penelope for being pa- 
tient and true through the whole trip, and to Mrs. 
Yates.” 

“You left out one,” called Crullers hastily. 
“The ghost of Humphrey.” 

And filled with an odd mixture of fun and sin- 
cerity, the girls lifted their hands high to pass the 
vote of thanks to the wraith of that most un- 
fortunate gentleman and pirate who had brought 
happiness and wealth back to White Chimneys. 


THE END 





The next volume in the Polly 
Page Series will be entitled 

THE POLLY PAGE 
CAMPING CLUB 



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